


you are a prayer that i never dared to speak (i am speaking now)

by Atlanta_Black



Series: the house don't fall when the bones are good [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), BAMF Gwen (Merlin), F/F, Getting Together, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Morally Grey Morgause, Morgana's Magic Revealed (Merlin), bless gwen she deserves the whole world honestly, redeemed Morgause
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25235002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atlanta_Black/pseuds/Atlanta_Black
Summary: “You tell Guinevereeverything, Morgana, “ Arthur snaps. “You have ever since you both met. If you have changed so much that you don’t talk to her anymore then no, I’m not sure that I trust you.” His voice is shockingly cold at the end and Morgana’s eyes have gone wide and dark.She laughs, a sharp, short sound that echoes around the room. “Yes, I used to tell her everything but that was before…” she trails off, eyes darting to Merlin and he wants to close his eyes at the anger in them.Wants to close his eyes but there are pieces coming together in the back of his mind. “She doesn’t know,” he says, not looking at Arthur when they both turn to look at him. “I didn’t tell her. She has no idea about what I did.”Alternatively, secrets come pouring out and The Golden Age of Albion may be closer at hand than Merlin or anyone else realizes.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Morgana/Gwen/Leon (pre-relationship)
Series: the house don't fall when the bones are good [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878538
Comments: 97
Kudos: 491





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic honestly got so far out of hand. I initially thought it was only going to be a short 3-4k thing and now it's sitting at roughly 8500 words and counting. The second chapter is nearly done and should be the last one. With luck i'll have it posted tomorrow! I hope you enjoy <3  
> Also, @queerofthedagger made me this absolutely lovely header and i just, love her so much <3<3<3<3
> 
>   
> 

Merlin’s late with Arthur’s dinner, again, for the third time this week and he blames that as the reason for why he doesn’t notice the eerie quiet of the room when he barges in. It isn’t until he’s sat the food on the table that he looks up to find Arthur and Morgana both standing stock still in the middle of the room, staring at him intently.

“Er….hello? Did I interrupt something?” he blinks, takes a step backwards towards the door and freezes when Arthur’s eyes narrow.

“Close the door, Mer _lin_.” He doesn’t snap the words but it’s a close thing. Merlin doesn’t like how stiffly he’s holding himself.

Doesn’t like how sharp Morgana’s eyes are. But he closes the door anyways and stands there, back pressed against it, wondering what exactly he just walked in on.

“Morgana just came to me with a funny story, Merlin. Perhaps you’d like to hear it?” His voice is flat and no, Merlin would not like to hear it thank you very much but he doubts he’s going to get a choice in the matter.

He doesn’t say anything, which only causes Arthur’s eyes to narrow even farther. Morgana tilts her head, glances between them and _oh no_ , he does not like the smirk on her face at all. He’s beginning to wish he had just forgotten Arthur’s dinner all together. Except then Morgana would have been alone with Arthur and that’s somehow worse than this awkward situation he’s found himself in.

“Morgana was just telling me that she’s met a sister she didn’t know she had.” This time there’s a definite bite in his voice.

“That’s….nice?” He mutters, wondering how she’s managed to spin that tale into a lie that Arthur will accept. Takes in Morgana’s tight shoulders and the way Arthur’s fingers keep twitching like he wants to reach for his sword. Clearly it hadn’t gone over well.

“Yes, nice. Very nice except that her sister is Morgause.”The words slip out honey sweet and Merlin can feel his heart hammering, wants Arthur to hurry up and get to the punch line of the joke. He isn’t sure what it’s going to be but he knows he’s going to hate it.

“That’s…” What is that? Not nice. Not good. Not in any way what he wanted to hear. Very worrying considering that Morgana was _alone_ in the room with Arthur when he arrived. More worrying considering that Arthur himself doesn’t seem to be worried about her trying to kill him.

“That’s what, Merlin?” Morgana asks quietly, eyes so sharp he wonders if he could cut himself on her gaze.

“Interesting?” He mutters after a painfully long moment of staring at the two of them.

“Yes, it is, isn’t it.” Arthur says slowly, fingers still twitching, his eyes still locked on Merlin. “Very interesting. Do you remember the last time we saw Morgause?”

Morgana startles, head snapping to stare at Arthur, some of the tenseness leaving her shoulders. He is so confused. If that wasn’t what they were arguing about then what—

“Rather hard to forget,” he mutters.

“Good. Then you remember what happened afterwards.”

Merlin has never been scared of Arthur before but the smile on Arthur’s face is teaching him how to be. He’s being walked into a trap, he’s just not sure what the trap is, so he nods slowly and tries not to let on how badly his stomach sinks when Arthur’s smile twists.

_“You said she lied.” ___

____

Ah. Right. That would be the trap. Although, he supposes he has no one to blame except himself for this one really. He has to close his eyes against the betrayal breaking across Arthur’s face.

____

“Did you know?” Arthur asks, something heavy hiding beneath the words. “Did you know that she was telling the truth or did you really think that she was lying?”

____

He could lie again. Lie to save himself. Let Arthur think that he had really just been doing his best to protect him but—

____

—but he’s so tired of lying to Arthur.

____

“I thought, and I still think, that she was manipulating you,” He says slowly, not opening his eyes. “I didn’t find out until later that what she said was true, at the time I just wanted to stop you from making a mistake.”

____

“What exactly did she tell you?” Morgana asks and he opens his eyes to find her staring curiously at Arthur. He’s surprised Morgause didn’t tell her. Surprised that she hasn’t heard all about how Morgause almost got Arthur to kill his own father.

____

Arthur doesn’t answer, his gaze still locked on Merlin and he stares back. There’s a contemplative, heavy look in Arthur’s eyes that Merlin doesn’t like. Although, that’s probably his own guilt talking. He doesn’t want Arthur to put the pieces together, although he knows that he’s capable of it.

____

His face doesn’t change, the same heavy look staying in place as he turns to stare at Morgana. She blinks back at him, looking confused and put out. He doesn’t know what her plan was telling him about Morgause but it’s clearly not going how she wanted.

____

The room is quiet and he can tell when Arthur finally reaches the conclusion of whatever it is he’s figured out. Watches him straighten, hand falling away from his sword. Whatever agitated energy he’d been holding when Merlin first walked in fades away to something different. Something tired but sure.

____

There’s a brief moment where he exchanges a confused glance with Morgana, a moment where it’s almost as if they’re friends again, as if he never poisoned her. A glance where it’s almost like he’s eighteen again and snickering with her about Arthur’s mood swings.

____

Only a moment and then she’s glaring at him, clearly wishing he’d never walked in the room to begin with. He wishes it didn’t still make his heart ache every time they forgot themselves. Wishes he didn’t still regret what he’d had to do.

____

Arthur is watching them when they turn back, lips pursed. But instead of saying anything he walks to his seat and slumps down into it, legs spread and a fist tucked under his chin as he watches them.

____

“Sit down. Both of you.” He waves his free hand at the empty chairs, the gesture so casual that Merlin could almost believe he hasn’t figured anything out at all.

____

His knees nearly buckle on the way to the chair. For all that he’s doing his best to convince himself that everything is fine he still has the overwhelming urge to run. Morgana sits down across from him, movements stilted and her eyes never leave Arthur’s face even as she reaches for the pitcher and helps herself to Arthur’s wine.

____

“Are you going to tell us about whatever fascinating thought you’ve had?” Morgana asks after another minute of Arthur staring at them.

____

Arthur hums quietly, smiling slightly at the huff of annoyance she lets out. He turns to stare at Merlin again and he’s really, really, really tired of that. It’s making his skin crawl not knowing what Arthur’s figured out. But Arthur’s gaze lays heavy on him and he does his best to not move, to look as innocent as possible.

____

“How long have you known that she’s your sister?” Arthur asks suddenly, turning away from Merlin and seemingly picking back up whatever conversation they’d been having before he walked in.

____

Morgana stares at him as if he’s gone mad. “Excuse me?” She asks, voice going high pitched and incredulous.

____

“Morgause. How long have you known that she’s your sister?” Arthur repeats slowly, tilting his head and watching her.

____

Morgana’s mouth tightens for a second but when she answers it’s the truth that comes out. Merlin isn’t sure if that’s because he’s sitting here or because it fits with whatever story she’s come up with. “I’ve known since the first time she was in Camelot,” she says, chin tilted up, eyes daring Arthur to say anything.

____

Arthur for his part merely hums in acknowledgement and stares at her. It isn’t like Arthur to be so calm in the face of, what he surely must see as lies. It’s making Merlin want to knock him out just to make sure Morgana hasn’t cursed him somehow.

____

Arthur turns to stare at him again and this time his mouth quirks just slightly. Just enough to make Merlin think that maybe Arthur hasn’t figured anything important out. What could prince prat figure out on his own right?

____

“Does Guinevere know?” Arthur asks, once again turning back to Morgana.

____

Morgana blinks, a grief stricken expression stealing over her face. “No.” She doesn’t elaborate and Arthur sits up straight, eyes wide.

____

“Honestly? You didn’t tell her?”

____

“No, Arthur. I haven’t told her anything. Why would I?” Morgana snaps, voice cold.

____

Arthur’s hand settles on his sword, eyes narrowed. “You tell her everything. The Morgana that I know, tells her everything.”

____

“Are you joking? This is what makes you distrust me? Not Morgause as my sister but this?” Morgana questions, incredulous and baffled. Merlin can’t help but agree with her on this.

____

“You tell Guinevere _everything_ , Morgana, “ Arthur snaps. “You have ever since you both met. If you have changed so much that you don’t talk to her anymore then no, I’m not sure that I trust you.” His voice is shockingly cold at the end and Morgana’s eyes have gone wide and dark.

____

She laughs, a sharp, short sound that echoes around the room. “Yes, I used to tell her everything but that was before…” she trails off, eyes darting to Merlin and he wants to close his eyes at the anger in them.

____

Wants to close his eyes but there are pieces coming together in the back of his mind. “She doesn’t know,” he says, not looking at Arthur when they both turn to look at him. “I didn’t tell her. She has no idea about what I did.”

____

“I don’t believe you,” she spits, eyes narrowed. “You tell her everything.”

____

He stares at her for a second, trying to make sense of the words before bursting into laughter. “Is that what you think?” He asks around laughter. The idea of him telling anyone, besides Gaius and Lance, everything is just so absurd.

____

Morgana is staring at him, a perplexed, hopeful expression settling over her features and when he chances a glance at Arthur, he finds him watching them with that same half smile, pulling at his mouth, softening his eyes. What he wouldn’t give to find out what Arthur is thinking.

____

“She really doesn’t know?” Morgana asks, the hope clear in her voice.

____

“No, I wouldn’t tell her about that. I couldn’t even if I wanted to, she…” he hesitates, licks his lips nervously. “Morgana, she’ll always pick you over me. I’ve always known that. As long as she believes that you’re still her friend, she will _always _pick you.” He wishes that knowledge didn’t sting so much. That it didn’t leave a cold curl of panic clutching at his lungs. What he doesn’t say is he’s not sure if even Morgana turning on Uther would be enough to turn Gwen from her.__

____ _ _

Morgana’s eyes have gone soft and awe struck, shoulders loose in a way they haven’t been since she came back to the castle.

_____ _

“Why on earth would you ever believe that she would turn on you anyways?” Arthur asks, the warmth back in his voice, hand once again loose around the hilt of his sword.

_____ _

Morgana opens her mouth to respond and then freezes, something flickering through her eyes and her mouth snaps shut hard enough that he can hear her teeth click together. She turns her eyes on him and it’s been so long since she looked at him with anything other than carefully concealed hatred that he’d nearly forgotten what curiosity looked like on her face.

_____ _

“Tell me something, Merlin,” she murmurs lowly, hands gripping her goblet tightly. “Why did you do it? You never told me.”

_____ _

“You said you knew why,” he mutters, head spinning, hyper aware of Arthur’s gaze on him.

_____ _

“I did but…” she pauses, swallows, looking as if the next words pain her. “But I only know what I was told and you haven’t told me anything.”

_____ _

It takes him only seconds to piece that together, to realize that she’s questioning whatever it is that Morgause told her and oh, that had been foolish of him. To not make sure that she understood why he had done it.

_____ _

“You remember the curse?” He asks softly, watching out of the corner of his eye as Arthur shifts restlessly.

_____ _

“Of course.”

_____ _

“You remember that you were the only one it didn’t seem to bother, that’s because it was tied to you and the only way…” Arthur shifts again, fingers tightening around his sword hilt “… the only way to end it was to do what I did.” It wouldn’t take a genius to piece together what he had done and Arthur was many things, but he was not as stupid as Merlin liked to pretend.

_____ _

He can see the realization sweep across Arthur’s face. See it in the way his lips go white where they’re pressed together, the way his eyebrows dip down, his shoulders seem to curve themselves inwards as if protecting himself from the truth that he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

_____ _

Morgana on the other hand looks as if she’s had an epiphany, eyes bright, something vicious in the way she smiles at him. “ _She lied to me_ ,” she hisses out slowly, bitter and angry but for once, not at him. “That isn’t what she told me at all.”

_____ _

“Just to be clear,” Arthur cuts in, voice brittle. “Merlin, did you… You’re the one who got rid of the curse? By—”

_____ _

“Yes,” he answers, meeting Arthur’s eyes and not making him finish the sentence. “Yes, I poisoned her and then bribed Morgause with the antidote so that she would lift the curse.”

_____ _

Morgana lets out a strangled snarl, clearly not having heard that last bit either but he watches Arthur. Arthur, who is staring at him as if he’s never seen him before. He thinks he can feel his heart breaking apart in his chest and wonders how much worse it will be when Arthur finds out about his magic.

_____ _

“Oh stop it, Arthur.” Morgana slams a hand on the table suddenly, nearly knocking over her cup, cheeks flushed. “If you don’t trust me if I don’t talk to Gwen then— then I don’t trust you if you turn your back on Merlin.”

_____ _

Arthur snaps his head around to stare at her and Merlin knows his mouth is hanging unattractively but… _what?_

_____ _

“That’s not the same at all!” Arthur exclaims, surprised enough that the betrayal has almost completely washed from his face.

_____ _

“It’s exactly the same,” Morgana snaps. “And really, if anyone is going to feel betrayed it is me, seeing how as I’m the one who was poisoned!”

_____ _

“Yes! Exactly, and you’re basically my sister, so I am feeling betrayed on your behalf!”

_____ _

“But!” She exclaims triumphantly. “I am over the betrayal as of right now and so you’re not allowed to feel betrayed on my behalf.”

_____ _

Arthur gapes at her. Merlin sits there, opening and closing his mouth, trying to think of anything at all to say. It’s during this silence, Morgana’s face lit up, both of them staring at her in astonishment, that the door to Arthur’s chamber swings open and Gwen steps into the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

_____ _

Morgana goes white so fast that Arthur puts a hand out in alarm.

_____ _

Gwen stares at them all, lips pinched, hands in fists on her hips. “You would think,” she starts, voice trembling. “That you would all know by now, that these doors are not as sound proof as they appear.”

_____ _

“And yet, you don’t seem too worried about anyone hearing you,” Arthur says pointedly, one hand still hovering near Morgana’s shoulder.

_____ _

“Lancelot is guarding the door,” she says flatly and then levels a narrow eyed glance at Merlin. “Lancelot did not seem at all surprised by any of what we heard.”

_____ _

Arthur’s eyes snap to him, heavy and accusing.

_____ _

“And also,” she snaps, leveling a shaking finger at Merlin. “I will not be speaking to you for, for at least a month after this.” Her voice is trembling nearly as hard as her hands.

_____ _

“Yeah, I expected that.” He smiles weakly at her and is comforted when she nods at him, turning towards Morgana, hiding her hands in her dress.

_____ _

“Gwen…” Morgana starts, trails off, still pale and horrified.

_____ _

“I thought you trusted me,” Gwen snaps out, sounding close to tears and Merlin feels his heart drop to his stomach, see himself and Arthur reflected back so clearly in this that he nearly throws up.

_____ _

“I think,” he starts quietly, waiting for everyone to look at him. “I think that you should both go talk privately. Arthur and I should probably talk as well.”

_____ _

“He’s right,” Arthur says and Merlin nearly bites his tongue in surprise. “Both of you go talk and we can all meet back in here tomorrow. I assume you had other things to discuss with me, Morgana?”

_____ _

Morgana nods, eyes still locked on Gwen.

_____ _

They leave quickly, Morgana not sparing a glance back for himself or Arthur and a moment later Lancelot pokes his head in the door and quietly assures them that he will be standing guard for the remainder of the night and that he will be doing his best to not listen in. Merlin smiles weakly at him, heart racing in his throat.

_____ _

The door closes.

_____ _

When he turns back towards Arthur there’s a sword at his throat.

___  
___

_____ _

⚔

_____ _

_  
_  
_  
_   
_   
_

Arthur’s eyes are twin storm clouds staring through him, hand just barely shaking where it holds the sword to his throat. It’s far enough away that Arthur won’t cut him with his shaking hands but close enough that Merlin wouldn’t even have enough time to magic his way out. Or at least, he wouldn’t have enough time to magic his way out in a way that left Arthur alive and unharmed.

_____ _

So really, no time at all.

_____ _

“You poisoned her. She could have _died_ ,” Arthur says, voice low and furious.

_____ _

“Yes, I did.” There isn’t anything else to say. He had known the risks when he’d done it. Had known that Morgause could decide that Morgana’s life was not worth the opportunity to kill everyone in Camelot. “There was nothing else I could have done.”

_____ _

Arthur stares at him, hands gone alarmingly still. “Nothing?” He asks quietly, eyes steady and unflinching. “Nothing at all that _you_ could have done?” He smirks mockingly as if daring Merlin to lie and Merlin… He doesn’t know if Arthur means what he thinks or if he means something else entirely. It’s never possible to tell.

_____ _

Every time he thinks Arthur has it figured out he’s been wrong. He could be wrong now as well.

_____ _

“Nothing,” he says, meets Arthur’s eyes steadily, hoping he can read the truth in them. “It was the _only_ option I had unless I wanted you and everyone else in Camelot to die.”

_____ _

Arthur says nothing, stares at him for another long moment, mouth twisted unhappily and then slowly lowers his sword. “All those times that you’ve saved my life,” he says slowly, voice dark. “and here you are, brought to your limits by a sleeping curse.”

_____ _

“ _You knew_ ,” he breathes out, stomach twisting, finds himself absently wondering if his breathing is supposed to sound so ragged.

_____ _

“Of course I knew, Merlin,” Arthur snaps, flinging his sword to the side, no care for where it lands. “How could I not have known when you run around doing magic like it’s not a death sentence if you’re caught!” He runs a hand through his hair and spins away, pacing towards the window and then spinning back around to glare at Merlin.

_____ _

“How long have you known?” He asks quietly, curling his fingers around the chair arms, heart trying to crawl its way out of his mouth. _All this time_ and still—

_____ _

— still Arthur had treated him like a fool.

_____ _

Arthur purses his lips, eyes flickering down to Merlin’s hands, to the door, the floor, finally to Merlin’s eyes. “I’ve known since the Griffin,” he admits softly, the barest hint of an apology in his voice.

_____ _

His vision goes white, blood rushing to his ears.

_____ _

He must pass out for a moment because when his vision clears Arthur is carefully holding him upright, a hand to his chest, crouched down in front of him, face close enough to his own that he can see the flecks of green that like to hide in the ocean of Arthur’s eyes.

_____ _

“You should have told me,” Arthur murmurs, thumb swiping slow, sweeping arcs across Merlin’s chest.

_____ _

“I couldn’t.” He sighs softly, the press of Arthur’s hand grounding in a way nothing else could ever be. “I wanted to but I couldn’t.”

_____ _

“You didn’t trust me,” Arthur says flatly, lips a thin unhappy line that cuts across his face. His thumb stops moving, hand twitching as if to move away.

_____ _

“Arthur,” he says gently, curling his fingers around Arthur’s wrist and holding his hand in place. “Of course I trust you. Do you think I would let just anyone hold a sword to my throat?” Arthur’s pulse jumps under his fingers, and he tightens his grip in response.

_____ _

“You should have told me,” he says, low and unhappy. “You should have trusted me to keep you safe.”

_____ _

“Do you know what I saw as soon as I entered Camelot for the first time?” He asks, voice deceptively calm.

_____ _

Arthur shakes his head silently, his other hand anxiously tapping against the arm of the chair.

_____ _

“I saw a man, accused of magic, have his head chopped off and his mother _screamed_ , so loud and for so long,” he says slowly, the memory still leaves his limbs feeling heavy and sluggish. Arthur is staring at him, white faced and Merlin lets his other hand creep around Arthur’s other wrist. Let’s the knowledge that Arthur would never let anyone else chain him, even temporarily, this way ground him.

_____ _

“I dreamed about that for weeks and then Uther nearly burned Gwen and there was _nothing_ you could do. Mordred would have died if Morgana hadn’t convinced you to help. Tom did die just for helping a sorcerer unknowingly.” Arthur’s hands have gone still, his shoulders tight, his eyes settled somewhere to the right of Merlin’s face.

_____ _

“I’ve spent the last two years wondering if this is the time, that saving your life, will end with me burning on a pyre. I didn’t tell you because I couldn’t afford to be wrong. Because every time I thought to myself, _I trust him_ , I had to ask myself, but what if you’re wrong? What then?”

_____ _

“Then why keep doing it?” Arthur asks roughly, voice low.

_____ _

“Doing what?” He asks gently, tilting his head to try and get Arthur to meet his eyes.

_____ _

“Then why,” Arthur looks straight at him, eyes bright and grief filled. “do you keep saving my life?”

_____ _

“Oh prat,” he says softly, gently, trying to infuse that one word with all the love he’s been hiding in his veins. He shifts forward slowly, nudges Arthur’s legs until he huffs and slides, cross legged down to the floor. Slides the rest of the way out of the chair and into his lap, wraps his own legs around Arthur’s waist and pulls at Arthur’s wrists until they settle around his waist, reveling in the way Arthur lets him arrange them together. When he looks back up, feeling safe and content, Arthur’s eyes are dark.

_____ _

“Watching you die would be worse than anything Uther could ever do to me,” he says slowly, fingers pressed tight against Arthur’s hips. “Losing you would kill me faster than anything else in this world ever could.”

_____ _

A wild, strangled noise bursts out of Arthur’s throat and ghosts over Merlin’s mouth. “I’m not worth your life,” Arthur chokes out. “I’m not worth that.”

_____ _

“You’re worth everything, everything I have is yours.” It’s as good as an oath and he can tell that Arthur knows it too.

_____ _

Arthur stares at him, eyes wide and dark, a wildness creeping through them that Merlin has only seen on rare occasions. Rare occasions like the time Arthur saw his mother for the first time or stared down the blade of his sword, his father on the other end. Has only seen when Arthur is at his most vulnerable.

_____ _

“It’s the same for me,” Arthur says fiercely, hands settling firmly on Merlin’s hips. “I would crown myself king tomorrow if it meant keeping you safe.” The truth ringing in his voice rips the air from Merlin’s lungs.

_____ _

Rips the air from him and leaves him staring wide eyed and breathless, a kingdom shining back at him. A man under his hands that holds the destiny of the kingdom in his palm like a fragile toy and offers to shatter it if only to keep him safe. What do you do with power like that?

_____ _

“I would never ask you to do that,” he says softly, bringing a finger up to trace the curve of Arthur’s cheekbone.

_____ _

“I know…” his hand comes up to grip at Merlin’s hair, “…and that is exactly why I would do it.”

_____ _

Merlin’s shaky, exhaled breath is swallowed down as Arthur slots his lips over Merlin’s, the gesture as easy as taking a breath of air. What is a kiss when you’ve promised your kingdom to keep someone safe?

_____ _

Merlin tries his hardest to sink into Arthur, to let his body find its way home, slips his fingers under Arthur’s shirt and presses them firmly against his skin. Hopes to the goddess that his fingerprints burn their way onto Arthur’s skin.

_____ _

Arthur tugs at his hair, softly at first, catching each of his moans in his own mouth, seeming to savor the way Merlin loses his rhythm, hands faltering every time. Softly at first and then harder, until Merlin is tipping his head back, whimpers falling through the air, Arthur’s mouth finding the soft skin of his neck, the fragile racing of his pulse.

_____ _

“Can you move us to the bed?” Arthur asks, biting lightly at his ear and then has to ask again when Merlin whimpers, brain blanking out.

_____ _

“Not in one piece,” he chokes out, squirming as Arthur’s fingers scrape across his stomach. “not right now.”

_____ _

Arthur hums and then rolls his shoulders, slides an arm under Merlin’s ass and lifts them both up off of the ground. “Last time I sit on the floor,” he mutters, grimacing, rolling his shoulders again and Merlin means to laugh but it comes out as more of a choked off groan.

_____ _

He loops his arms around Arthur’s neck and smirks at a sudden thought. “You know…” he starts, gets distracted by the way Arthur’s lips tilt upwards, red and slick, eyes so dark they barely seem blue.

_____ _

“Do I know?” Arthur prompts, smirking at him and moving towards the bed.

_____ _

“You know,” he tries again, looking down and glancing up at Arthur, wets his lips slowly. “I never did learn how to walk on my knees.”

_____ _

Arthur stumbles, nearly dropping Merlin on the floor and stares at him, cheeks flushing. “Would you like me to help you with that?” He answers, perfectly on script, voice hoarse and trembling.

_____ _

Merlin grins up at him, slides a hand into his hair and ever so lightly, pulls, delighting in the way Arthur swallows, nostrils flaring. “I’d have no one else, sire.”

_____ _

“Good.” And then he drops Merlin on the bed, laughing at Merlin’s surprised squeak. “I’d hate to have to murder someone so late at night.” He swallows down Merlin’s laughter, pressing them both into the bed until Merlin wonders if they won’t wake up to find they’ve finally gone back to one being instead of being two separate bodies. Always having to deal with the space between them.

_____ _

Wonders if he won’t wake up to find that the sunlight has taken residence on Arthur’s head, a permanent crown for the king that was promised.

_____ _

Arthur’s hands cup his face so gently and the press of his body feels like walking into a room and knowing that you’re home. He presses himself even closer, always jealous of the way the air gets between them.

_____ _

“I could take you apart with one blow,” Arthur mutters against his collarbone, hands tangled in his laces.

_____ _

Merlin laughs, bright and clear, the sound chasing itself around the room. “I could take you apart with less than that,” he says, beaming down at Arthur who smiles back at him, face gone soft and besotted.

_____ _

The air between them is a treacherous thing but this is a moment he’ll be able to compress and hold tight forever. This is a moment they will _never_ be able to tear from his soul.

___  
___

_____ _

⚔

_____ _

_  
_  
___  
_  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

The next morning dawns bright and cold, the sun breaking across Arthur’s face, leaving him sun soaked and golden. Merlin lays there, on Arthur’s ridiculously comfortable bed, Arthur’s arm slung over his waist, and just looks. Traces the lines of his face and the curve of his neck, lets himself look and hope that this is the start of something beautiful.

_Something that won’t leave him sobbing and alone._

Let’s himself look and then reaches up to card a hand through Arthur’s hair. “Let’s have it then, ya lazy daisy. We need to get up,” he says softly, giving Arthur’s shoulder a shake. He already knows it’ll do no good but he doesn’t want to break the softness of the moment just yet.

“In a minute,” Arthur mutters, dragging Merlin even closer, slotting their legs back together and burying his face in Merlin’s neck. “Just one more minute.” His breath lands hot and damp on Merlin’s neck and he curls in further despite himself. 

Arthur hums contentedly, fingers rubbing soft, sleepy circles against Merlin’s skin. He runs a hand down Arthur’s back, slow and curious, tracing the pattern of his spine and for a while, they just lay there, sunlight spilling over them, listening to each other breathe.

“We do have to get up,” he says regretfully some time later. “You know Morgana is going to show up at some point.”

Arthur huffs, pulling back and looking up at him. “One kiss,” he says, eyes bright and pleading. “Just one and then we can get up.”

Merlin chews on his lip, he knows what one kiss leads to and knows it won’t get them out of bed faster but… Arthur is staring at his mouth like he’s never seen it before, lips already parted and well, it’s just one kiss right?

“Only one,” he murmurs, tangling his hand in Arthur’s hair and leaning down, Arthur’s mouth sliding over his like home.

One kiss turns into two kisses.

Two kisses turn into Arthur pushing him down into the pillows, body a heavy, comforting weight above him. Which leads to hands roaming and Merlin arching up into him, blood burning. To Arthur biting at his collarbone and pressing his thumb against the bruise blossoming on the inside of Merlin’s thigh. Leads to Arthur mouthing words against Merlin’s hip and his hands tangled in Arthur’s hair.

Three kisses leads to him losing count, which leads to him arching his way up into the wet heat of Arthur’s mouth, shaking apart and moaning Arthur’s name like it’s the answer to a prayer he never dared to speak.

His lips when he pulls off are glossy and red. Merlin has never seen anything more beautiful.

They don’t leave the bed for a long time.

  


⚔

  


“I hate you,” he mutters some time later, boneless and exhausted, the sheets underneath him uncomfortably damp. “We were supposed to be up ages ago.”

“You don’t,” Arthur says, laughing at him before rolling out of the bed and stretching. He smirks when he catches Merlin staring.

“Shut up,” he mutters, looking away and wondering if he could get away with just going back to sleep. He doubts it considering the sun has long since risen and they have no idea when Morgana intends to join them.

“Come on, _Merlin._ ” Arthur disappears behind the changing screen, voice mocking. “I thought it was time to get up. Do hurry up.”

“If I just turned you into a toad no one would know,” he mutters, glaring at the screen. Arthur’s soft laughter has him unwillingly smiling in return and he drags himself up, unwilling to be caught still laying here, smiling like the besotted fool he is.

It’s as he’s halfway out of the bed, sheet pooled around his waist, blinking at the floor and wondering where the hell his clothes are, that Morgana comes striding through the doorway. There’s a horrified second of silence as she blinks at him and then she spins around, shoulders already shaking with laughter.

Merlin can feel his cheeks burning as he furiously wraps the sheet further around him, searching the floor frantically. He finally finds most of them, his trousers somehow having ended up over the back of a chair and his shirt mysteriously just gone. He grabs one of Arthur’s older shirts and ducks behind the changing screen, only to find Arthur bent over in silent hysterics, fist pressed to his mouth.

Merlin kicks him.

Not hard enough to hurt but honestly, you wouldn’t be able to tell that with how betrayed Arthur looks.

Arthur looks as if he’s seriously considering the merits of tackling Merlin in retaliation when Gwen’s voice reaches their ears. “Where are Arthur and Merlin?” He’s not even sure when she entered the room.

“They’re behind the changing screen,” Morgana says gleefully and he stares at Arthur, feeling sure his face must mimic the mortified filled look on Arthur’s. “You know Arthur, it seems I was wrong. Your relationship with Merlin is not at all like the one I share with Gwen.” She laughs delightedly and he hurries to finish dressing, glaring at Arthur the entire time.

“This is your fault,” he hisses, pulling his pants up violently and nearly ripping them.

Arthur for his part, has the grace to look mildly apologetic before visibly steeling himself and moving out into the room.

“Good morning to you too, Morgana,” he says dryly. “Good morning, Guinevere.”

Merlin slips Arthur’s shirt over his head, ignoring Morgana’s response, and frowns down at himself. The shirt is far too loose even given it’s one of Arthur’s smaller shirts. He can tuck his hands up into the sleeves easily and knows it’ll be glaringly obvious to anyone with eyes that this is not his shirt but… it’s either this or walk back into the room without a shirt on at all. Which isn’t really an option at all when Morgana and Gwen or both out there.

He sighs, it’ll just have to do. There’s really nothing else for it. He steps out into the room, resisting the urge to hunch his shoulders, knowing it’ll only make him seem even smaller than Arthur’s shirt is already making him appear.

Arthur turns to look at him as soon as he steps out, mouth already open to say something but he turns to look at Merlin and freezes, a strangled noise tearing out of his throat, eyes wide. Merlin can see his throat working furiously as he swallows, eyes dragging their way down over the shirt and then back up to Merlin’s eyes and _fuck,_ he knows the only thing stopping Arthur from dragging him back to bed are the two girls watching them.

“Not that this isn’t absolutely fascinating,” Morgana drawls, still sounding far too gleeful for Merlin’s liking. “But I believe we all need to _talk._ ”

Arthur coughs, gives Merlin another wide-eyed glance and then turns back to Morgana who is watching them both with a strange look that doesn’t match the glee in her voice. Gwen is hovering right behind Morgana, so close that if Morgana shifts at all she’ll run into her.

Gwen meets his eyes, an uncomfortably speculative look in her eyes that seems terribly out of place on her face and leaves ice dripping down his spine. He wants to know what Morgana told her.

For all that Morgana had said last night that she was over it, he has a difficult time believing it to be true.

There’s an uncomfortable silence as they all stare at each other which is broken as someone knocks at the door.

“I sent for food,” Gwen says quietly, moving to answer the door. “I figured we should all eat.”

Morgana smiles softly at her as Gwen helps the servant set everything on the table. If nothing else he’s happy that Morgana truly does seem to have reconciled with Gwen. That may be enough to at least temper any urges to hurt Camelot as a whole.

They all sit down to eat, the silence heavy and halfway through the meal he looks up to find Morgana staring at him thoughtfully.

“Have you really forgiven me?” He blurts out, the words bursting out before he can think better of them.

She startles, blinking at him and then tilts her head, expression going distant. “If our roles had been reversed,” she murmurs slowly. “And my options were poison you or watch Gwen die, then there would be no choice at all.” Gwen inhales sharply, staring at Morgana in shock, spoon slipping out from between her frozen fingers, the clattering sound echoing through the room.

“What did she tell you?” He asks, wincing at how tight Morgana’s expression goes. “About why I did it. What did she want you to believe?”

Morgana stares at him for a long moment and then delicately sets her spoon down, glancing at Arthur before turning back to him. “She told me that you had poisoned me because I have magic,” she says it so simply that Arthur’s shocked exhale nearly seems out of place. “But Gwen and I talked for a long time last night and we realized that reasoning makes no sense, seeing how as you have magic yourself.” She smiles, a tight angry twist. “Don’t you Merlin?”

The silence, the lack of shock from Arthur, is damning itself.

“How did you figure it out?” he asks quietly, glancing at Gwen only to find her glaring at her own plate, hands in her lap, shoulders tense.

“I didn’t. Gwen did.” She turns to smile at Gwen and then pauses, eyebrows creasing in concern as she takes her in. “Gwen?”

Gwen glances up at them and he thinks he may hate this most, having Gwen dragged into all of this. The anger and fear looks wrong on her face.

“You mustn’t tell your father,” she says, not looking at either of them, instead staring straight at Arthur. Arthur who is staring at Morgana, pale and horrified.

“What?” He blinks, turning to look at Gwen and then sits up straighter, horror flooding his face. “Of course I won’t tell my father!”

“Then _why_ are you looking at her like that?”

Morgana is staring at Gwen, fingers pressed to her lips, eyes soft and besotted. He wonders if she was really that far off the mark when she’d said that Gwen was to her what Merlin was to Arthur. Wonders if she even realizes it herself.

“Not for whatever reason you’re thinking,” Arthur says, sounding weary and grief stricken. “The druids that we believed to have kidnapped you, you were there of your own free will weren’t you?”

Merlin and Morgana both flinch and Arthur runs a hand over his face, clearly not needing another answer.

“Okay,” he says quietly, still sounding heart sick. “okay. So, let me get this all straight. You have magic and Morgause is your sister who at best, has been manipulating you for what she thinks is your own good, at worst, manipulating you for her own plans.”

Morgana nods, lips pursed and Arthur sighs again, pointing at Gwen. “You knew nothing of any of this until yesterday and I’m assuming that regardless of where we all fall, you will side with Morgana?” This sounds less like a question than a statement but he still pauses, waits for Gwen to nod, chin tilted up defiantly.

“And you also have magic, which you are clearly terrible at keeping a secret and have been trying to protect me and Camelot for years.”

“Trying and succeeding,” he mutters, nodding his agreement.

Arthur huffs but nods at him, leaning back in his chair and staring at them. “Morgana,” he says, hesitates, runs a hand over his face and then stares at her straight on. “Do you mean to threaten Camelot in any way?”

Gwen hisses in a breath, looking ready to argue but Morgana beats her to it. “Not to Camelot, no.” She says calmly, back straight, shoulders steady. “And I do not wish you harm in any way but, I will see Uther _dead._ ”

Merlin itches to reach out and place a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur who has gone pale and silent, staring at Morgana as if he’s never seen her before. Gwen does not look surprised by this news and he finds himself once again wondering what exactly they spoke about the night before and how far exactly Gwen is prepared to go.

“There is nothing I can say that will convince you otherwise?” Arthur asks lowly, eyes intent on Morgana and it says something as to how much he trusts her, that his hand does not once reach for his sword.

“Nothing at all. He would see me dead if he were ever to find out about my magic.”

Arthur nods, still staring at her, and Merlin can see his thumb moving back and forth over his ring, a sure sign that he’s thinking hard.

Arthur glances at Merlin once and then calmly asks, “Must you see him dead or only taken off the throne?”

Morgana’s mouth drops open and from the corner of his eye, he can see that Gwen has a hand pressed to her mouth. He wishes he could find that surprise but he still vividly remembers Arthur’s confession from the night before and he can’t find it within himself to be surprised at the turn this conversation has taken.

“You’re not serious?” Morgana says sounding torn between absolute disbelief and shock.

Arthur leans forward, palms pressed flat to the table, eyes not once wavering from hers. “I told Merlin last night that, if necessary, to see him safe, I would crown myself King today. I meant that with every piece of me. How could I offer you anything less than the same promise?”

_Oh,_ he sees her mouth the word right before she rises out of the chair and nearly flings herself at Arthur. Arthur barely manages to catch her, the chair tilting backwards precariously and Merlin sighs, balancing it with a flick of his finger. He wonders if she can tell how much this is costing Arthur. If she can feel the tightness in his shoulders. If she realizes how badly this is going to hurt him.

He turns to look at Gwen, feeling almost like he’s intruding watching Arthur and Morgana cling to each other, and finds her already watching him. She smiles at him, a shaky thing that is still far more fearful than he would ever wish for her but it still gives him hope that they’ll be okay. That they will all stay on the same side and never have to find out where they all fall if made to choose.

  


⚔

  


Morgana has just re-taken her seat at the table, wiping at her face, when a knock sounds on the door.

Arthur glances at Morgana, waits for her to finish making herself presentable, before calling out, “Enter.”

Lance steps into the room, closing the door behind him and then turning to frown at Arthur, who is already out of his seat, halfway towards Lance.

“Lancelot? What’s happened?” Arthur demands and Merlin knows he’s seeing the same thing as the rest of them. The bruised eyes, the agitated clenching of Lance’s hands.

“Nothing has happened, sire,” Lance says evenly, hands tightening into fists at his side. “Camelot remains safe.”

Arthur stops in front of Lance, brow creasing, confusion lining his face. “And what of you?”

Lance’s mouth is a tight line as he stares at Arthur and Merlin isn’t sure anyone other than himself and Gwen will be able to recognize the deep conflict that is hiding in his eyes.

And then before anyone can ask anymore questions, Lance has drawn back his arm and punched Arthur in the face. The movement is so utterly unexpected from Lancelot, of all people, that Arthur doesn’t even think to dodge it.

Arthur shouts, one hand coming up to cover his face and the other reaching for his sword. Merlin’s chair has fallen over in his haste to reach Arthur, panic thrumming in his veins as he considers who could have enchanted Lance. Gwen is sitting in her seat, hand clasped over her mouth, eyes wide and shocked and Morgana has shoved her way out of her seat to stand in between Lance and Arthur, lips curled into a snarl.

“I’m not enchanted.” Is the first thing Lance says, meeting Merlin’s eyes evenly, knowing him well enough to already know what he’s thinking.

“Then what the fuck, Lance,” he snaps over his shoulder, shoving Arthur’s hand out of the way to poke gently at his nose. Arthur hisses but it doesn’t seem to be broken at least.

“Lancelot—” Arthur starts, hand still tight around his sword but Lance cuts him off before he can say anything else.

“You should have told him that you knew.” The rage in Lance’s voice is so out of place that Arthur does nothing other than blink at him for a moment.

“Excuse me?”

“You should have told him that you knew.” He repeats, voice harsh. “You have no idea the burden he’s carried all these years while you kept your silence and pretended to not know how much he was risking for you.”

A beat of silence. Morgana silently moves out of the way, going to stand next Gwen, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Merlin for his part can do nothing except stare in bafflement. This is because of him?

“I do believe you said that you were not going to listen to what we said last night.” Arthur points out dryly, hand finally dropping from his sword.

“You are both very loud.”

Arthur nods at him, conceding the point and Merlin is still so confused.

“Lance, you didn’t have to…” he starts, pauses, not really sure what Lance had been trying to achieve.

“You’re my friend, Merlin.” Lance says, tone gentling when he turns to speak to him. He pauses, wrinkles his nose and then in an almost embarrassed tone says, “I also, admittedly, have not yet been to bed and did in fact stand guard all night.”

“Oh my god, Lance.” He drags a hand over his face, feeling a bubble of hysterical laughter trying to force its way up his throat. “Please, go home and go to sleep.”

Arthur has his face buried in his hands and is probably feeling just as hysterical as Merlin.

“I’ll make sure he goes home,” Gwen says suddenly, looking wrung out and exhausted.

“Take the rest of the day off Gwen, please,” Morgana says, watching Gwen with worried eyes. Gwen bites her lip, looking between all of them uncertainly.

“I think we should all probably take a break from this conversation,” Arthur interjects, dropping his hands from his face, moving to the table and pouring himself a goblet of wine. “We can talk further about what exactly we all plan to do after we’ve had time to process everything we’ve learned and in Lancelot’s case, gotten what is clearly, much needed sleep,” he says wryly, poking carefully at his nose.

Lance grimaces, looking a lot less angry now that he’s punched Arthur.

“I am going to go and talk the cook out of some sweetbread,” Morgana announces. “You’re welcome to join me after you’ve seen Lancelot home.” She nods at Gwen, who smiles back at her.

“I would love to,” she says, taking Lance’s arm and attempting to pull him out the door.

“Guinevere, you really don’t have to, I can see myself home,” he protests, attempting to pull his arm back.

He can see Gwen’s fingers tighten even from where he’s standing and he winces in sympathy. “Let’s go, Lancelot.” She smiles at him, honey sweet. “I know very well that if no one walks you to your house you _will_ attempt to stay up all day and go to training as usual.” She pulls him out the door, the end of her sentence barely audible as the door closes behind them.

And then it’s just the three of them left to stare at each other.

“I’ll leave you both to rest,” Morgana says, smirking at them, moving to leave.

“I’m happy that we’re on the same side again,” he blurts out before she can leave, the relief leaving his voice shaking and thin. “And I know I already said it once, but I really am sorry that I hurt you.”

She freezes, back already to him and he thinks for a moment that she’s going to leave without saying anything. She stands there for a silent, drawn out moment where he can hear his heart pounding in his ears, Arthur frozen and still in the corner of his vision and then she’s spinning around, throwing her arms around him before he can more than blink in surprise.

He hugs her back hesitantly. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d missed this. Hadn’t realized how badly he missed trusting her.

“I’m happy too,” she says quietly into his ear. “Hating you was exhausting.” She pulls back to smile at him and then nods at Arthur, eyes soft, before turning and leaving, the door shutting behind her softly.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Arthur comes over and ever so gently swipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb. He stares at the wetness on Arthur’s thumb for a second before burying his face in Arthur’s chest, the tears still sliding down his face.

“I’ve been so scared that she was going to try to hurt you and make me have to kill her,” he whispers into Arthur’s chest. Arthur’s arms tighten around him painfully, heart stuttering for a second, before he loosens his grip, sighing heavily.

“We’re all going to be fine,” Arthur says quietly into Merlin’s hair. “No more secrets between all of us, not anymore.”

“I still need to tell you everything that I’ve done.” He doesn’t want to, he wants to go back to sleep. Wants to curl up around Arthur and rest.

Arthur hums quietly, the sound echoing through Merlin. “You can tell me later. It isn’t even lunch time yet, still plenty of time left in the day.”

“Oh god,” he mutters, pulling back to squint out the window. “Did all of that really happen before lunch?”

Arthur laughs at his disgruntled tone. “Yes, and sadly I have to go to training instead of stripping my shirt off of you.” His eyes are dark when Merlin looks back at him.

Merlin swallows, having nearly forgotten that he was even wearing Arthur’s shirt.

“You could just skip training?” He tries, hands moving up to grip the front of Arthur’s shirt.

“You know I can’t but—” Arthur presses him back harder against the table, one hand settling in his hair, the other at the base of his ribs. “—if you were to already be in bed when I return, wearing say, nothing but this shirt, I would not be unhappy with you for it.”

He presses his mouth to the pulse point on Merlin’s neck, lips doing nothing other than staying pressed to the frantic beating of his heart, as he pulls Merlin’s head back to give him better access. Merlin whimpers, tries to arch up, only to have Arthur press firmly on his abdomen, raking his nails down Merlin’s stomach, chuckling when Merlin chokes on a moan.

He pulls back, staring down at Merlin, the air between them feeling treacherous, the blue of his eyes nothing but a thin ring around the black of his pupils.

“You’re going to be the end of me,” Arthur murmurs, thumb pressing into the hollow of Merlin’s hip.

Merlin swallows, wonders how many ways he can find to describe the heat that Arthur leaves racing through his veins. He surges up, pressing his mouth to Arthur’s and bites at his lip until he can feel Arthur’s resolve to go to training slipping. Feels Arthur’s hand settle on the back of his own neck like a brand. The only man he will ever willingly serve and he has him here, in his arms, his touch burning through him like a religion he doesn’t yet have a name for.

He pulls back, breathing heavily, eyes caught on the way Arthur’s hair shines golden in the light. A makeshift crown of light that leaves him looking every inch the king that Merlin knows he will be.

“You’d best be getting to training, _sire._ ” He nearly laughs at the narrowed eyed glare Arthur gives him.

“And what are you going to do while I’m at training?” Arthur asks, backing away slowly.

“Well first, I’m going to go assure Gaius I haven’t died,” he says, rolling his eyes. “And then, well, I think I’ll come back here and take a nap.” He laughs brightly at the disgruntled look on Arthur’s face.

“Absolutely the worst servant I’ve ever had,” Arthur mutters, moving to grab an apple from the table.

“And yet I’m still your favorite servant,” he says brightly, laughter dying in his throat at the look Arthur levels him with.

“No,” Arthur says quietly, hand reaching up to trace it’s way down Merlin’s cheek, down the side of his neck, settling into the hollow of his throat. “Never my favorite servant, never that. But you are so much more than that,” he pauses, eyes soft and open in a way Merlin has never seen before. “You, you are always my favorite good morning and, even more than that, you are always the worst goodbye,” Arthur says, voice hushed as if he’s imparting a great secret. Considering how much Arthur usually hates speaking about his feelings, perhaps this is a great secret.

He means to say something profound and touching back, really he does but instead what comes out, his voice horribly choked is, “You’re such a dollophead.”

Arthur smiles at him, soft and gentle. Presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth and then kisses him slow and sweet, lingering for several long drawn out seconds, lips just barely brushing.

“Go see Gaius,” Arthur murmurs, pulling back regretfully. “I really do need to go to training before the knights begin to wonder if I’ve been kidnapped.”

He presses his thumb to the center of Merlin’s bottom lip, eyes dark and wanting, and then turns and strides out the door.

Merlin stands there, letting the table support his weight, until he thinks he can walk without his knees buckling. Which is to say, he has no idea how long he stood there at all.

  


⚔

  


Gaius turns to look at him as soon as he opens the door, one judgmental eyebrow raised and worry visibly draining from him. Merlin feels like an absolute ass for not sending word, or coming down himself sooner, to assure Gaius that he was alright. With how often he ends up in life threatening situations he can’t imagine Gaius slept well.

“And just where have you been?” Gaius asks, pointing a spoon at him.

He coughs, finding himself unable to look Gaius in the eye as he mumbles, “With Arthur…”

“All night?” Gaius demands incredulously.

“Yeah, stuff came up,” he says lamely, shrugging his shoulder and trying to move past Gaius to his rooms.

“Merlin,” Gaius is staring at him in concern, both eyebrows nearly to his hairline. “Please tell me you haven’t gotten yourself into any more trouble?”

He hesitates, knowing for sure that he can’t tell Gaius the full truth but… surely just telling him part of it won’t hurt?

“He knows,” he says after a tense moment, hating the way Gaius seems to age before his eyes. “He knows about my magic.”

“Then you must leave,” Gaius says simply, one hand on the table, exhaustion visibly sweeping over him.

He shakes his head, knowing he wouldn’t have even if Arthur had taken his magic badly. “I’m not. I don’t have to.” Gaius opens his mouth to protest but Merlin rambles on before he can. “He’s fine with it, Gaius. He’s known since I defeated the griffin with Lance.” He has to press a shaking hand to his mouth, the impossibility of the situation sweeping over him again.

Last night and even this morning, there had been so many other revelations coming to light that somehow, his magic seemed to be the least important of them. Even Morgana, for all that she had snarled it at him like a curse, had seemed less surprised and more resigned. There had been so many secrets from the three of them and in it all, he doesn’t think he’d really let himself contemplate what it means that Arthur doesn’t just know, but seems to actually accept him.

“The griffin?” Gaius asks faintly, sitting down heavily on the bench. “But, that was years ago. He’s really known for that long?”

He nods, leans back against the banister and stares at the ceiling, willing the lump in his throat to go away. There’s no reason to cry, there’s not. Everything is fine. Everything is more than fine. So, why does he still feel like crying?

“And he, he’s really all right with it?” Gaius asks softly, sounding nearly overwhelmed as Merlin feels. For all that this is Merlin’s magic, Merlin’s burden to bear, Gaius has held the weight of it on his own shoulders as well from the moment Merlin walked through the door.

“Yeah,” chokes out, vision blurring. “Yeah, he’s, he doesn’t care. He just wanted me to trust him.”

“Oh my boy,” he hears Gaius say softly, right before he gets pulled into a hug.

“I’m fine,” he mutters a while later, pulling back and rubbing at his face. He had been joking earlier when he’d told Arthur he was going to take a nap but it’s starting to seem more and more tempting.

He feels so utterly wrung out and exhausted. The whiplash of having Morgana’s mercurial moods sweep over him, the unsureness of if she’s really forgiven him despite all that she’s said. The panic at having Gwen find out about it all, her disappointment always five times worse than any angry words she could find to throw at him.

And Arthur, always Arthur finding a new way to surprise him. He had thought he knew the prat better than he knew himself. Yet here they are, both of them having kept secrets and hidden pieces of themselves away and now that it’s all out in the air—

—now that it is all out in the air, he feels empty and hollow or maybe free. He’s not sure what freedom feels like, so who’s to say this isn’t it.

“I need to get back before he’s done training,” he tells Gaius, shaking himself. There will be plenty of time to think later.

He runs to his room, grabbing a change of clothes, although he doesn’t bother to change. It seems rather pointless and well, Arthur’s parting words are still fresh in his memory.

“I don’t know if I’ll be back tonight,” he tells Gaius on his way out, already knowing that he won’t be. “But I promise I’m safe and that I’ll come by tomorrow to help you with rounds.”

Gaius scoffs but waves him off, turning back to whatever he was making when Merlin burst in. And maybe it’s Merlin’s imagination or wishful thinking, but he thinks that Gaius seems just a bit lighter as he closes the door behind him.

He plans on taking a nap as soon as he gets back to Arthur’s rooms but as if sensing his exhaustion, life throws a wedge in his plans, in the form of Gwen nervously standing outside of Arthur’s door.

“Oh, Merlin, there you are,” she says, fidgeting nervously with her dress. “We need to talk.”

  


⚔

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you may have noticed that the chapter count has changed from 2 to 4....this is because i sit on a throne built of hubris and lies.
> 
> jkjk really, i just can't get the characters to shut up long enough to wrap the fic up and i now have 6-7 scenes left to write and honestly, i feel like i'll end up with at least one more before this is over. So, buckle in kids, this ride is a bit longer than we thought. 
> 
> i hope you're enjoying it <3


	3. Chapter 3

Leon keeps glancing at him.

Has been glancing at him repeatedly all throughout training, something clearly on his mind that he wishes to speak with Arthur about. Arthur had already been turning the idea of speaking to Leon over in his head and can’t decide if this timing is convenient or suspicious.

He has never been quite sure whether Leon’s loyalty lay more with his father or with himself. Leon’s loyalty seems to blur more with every year and Arthur has many times found himself wondering if even Leon knows. In most cases it wouldn’t matter, Arthur is supposed to be loyal to his king, not only as Crown Prince, but as son and heir as well. Unfortunately it is looking as if he will have to break that loyalty if he doesn’t wish to see Merlin and Morgana killed.

He hangs back, takes his time taking off his armor, something made easier by how rusty he is at doing it alone. Several of the knights have thrown him curious glances already, obviously wondering if he’s fighting with Merlin. He doesn’t know if he should be offended or grateful that so many of his knights seem so invested in his relationship with his manservant. Considering where they all seem to be heading, he thinks he’ll settle on gratitude and hope it’ll temper some of the outrage that will follow soon.

“Is Merlin well, sire?” Leon asks hesitantly. At least three other knights pause their movements, obviously listening in.

“Merlin is fine,” he says, rolling his eyes. He wouldn’t put it past Merlin to actually have decided to take a nap, so yes, he is very much fine. “He had other chores to attend to.” He resolutely pretends he does not see the skeptical looks all the knights share.

The other knights filter out slowly, throwing curious glances between him and Leon, neither of them trying particularly hard to be subtle about why they’re taking so long.

“Sire,” Leon starts as soon as the door closes behind the last knight. “I ran into Lady Morgana earlier.”

He sighs, of course he had, that answers the question of whether the timing was convenient or suspicious. He should have known that Morgana was involved. “And what did she have to say?”

Leon hesitates, eyeing him carefully. “She looked happy,” he says quietly, not answering the question. “Happier than she’s looked since we got her back.”

“Yes, I noticed as well.” He runs a hand through his hair, wonders what Leon will think when he finds out why she seems so much happier. “Although, I doubt that’s what you wished to speak with me about.”

Leon stares at him, uncharacteristically hesitant. “She said,” he begins slowly, seeming to measure each word as he says it. “That Guinevere trusts me and because of this, so would she.” He pauses, presumably to see if Arthur had anything to say to that.

He does have a vague recollection of Leon and Guinevere being abnormally close when they first came to Camelot, especially considering their stations, but he hadn’t realized that they were still friends. Close enough friends that Guinevere and Morgana would both consider bringing Leon in on this.

“She said that she didn’t wish to see me hurt,” Leon continues, voice heavy. “That she didn’t wish to see Gwen distressed over me. That I should speak with you.” Leon leans back against the wall, eyes never wavering from Arthur’s. “Sire. Arthur. What are the four of you planning?”

“You assume so easily that Merlin is involved,” he says dryly, standing and rolling his shoulders, armor all stored away for Merlin to deal with later.

Leon fixes him with a flat, unamused look. “I mean no disrespect sire when I say, that only way Merlin would not be involved, is if he were dead or dying.”

He laughs, wondering what his knights think of Merlin, of this serving boy who’s earned a reputation of refusing to let Arthur do anything remotely dangerous by himself. “Yes, I suppose you are correct. Tell me Leon, do you have any important dinner plans this evening?”

“No, sire.”

“Good. Join us for dinner in my chambers and we’ll explain then.”

Leon nods, and turns to leave, armor long since put away. Arthur can only hope Morgana is right on trusting him and that this doesn’t all spectacularly blow up in their faces.

  


⚔

  


“We need to talk,” Gwen says, voice even despite her fidgeting hands.

Merlin blinks at her, sparing a moment to mourn the nap he won’t be having and then nods, moving past her to open the door.

He sighs as they enter, the room is a mess. He was meant to clean it last night but with everything that had happened he’s not had any time. He goes to pick up a shirt and then pauses, glancing at Gwen out of the corner of her eye.

She’s standing just inside the room, biting her lip as she looks around. She seems more nervous than afraid which is what ends up prompting him to look at her and go, “Do you want to see something?”

“See something?” She repeats blankly, before lighting up with understanding when he wiggles his fingers at her. “ _Oh,_ ” she breathes, nodding her head. He thinks he spots a hint of uncertainty crossing her face but still no fear.

He turns back to the room, straightening his shoulders and then claps his hands together once. “Alright, lets have at it then,” he says, letting go of the grip he usually keeps on his magic. His magic races free, curling its way through the room.

The clothes immediately begin flinging themselves into the laundry basket, the sheets on the bed shaking furiously and snapping straight. The pillows dance their way into place, the food on the table all consolidating onto one plate, the dirty plates stacking themselves neatly. The drapes shake themselves out, pulling themselves back, as the bows neatly tie themselves.

Gwen laughs delightedly and he looks over to find her hair braiding itself into two, perfect neat braids.

“Have you been able to do this since you got here?” She asks looking away from the clothes folding themselves and back at him.

He nods, “Yeah, never have though,” he says ruefully. “Never knew when Arthur would walk in.”

“He seems to be taking it well,” she says hesitantly, the hint of a question in her voice.

“He already knew.” He laughs at the shocked look she gives him. “Yes, that was my reaction as well.”

There’s a moment of silence, his magic finishing with the cleaning and slowly retreating back to him, humming happily at having gotten to run free.

“I thought you weren’t going to be talking to me for a month at least,” he says after a moment, leaning back against the bedpost, tugging awkwardly at his neckerchief.

She swallows, crosses her arms and then drops them again. “I wasn’t. I wasn’t but I have questions and it’s rather hard to ask those if I’m not speaking to you.”

“Ah, yes, I suppose it would be.” He sighs, moving forward and dropping into one of the chairs. “Here, sit down, I’ll answer whatever you want me too.”

She sits in the chair next to him, angling it towards him, crossing her hands in her lap. “You poisoned her,” she says quietly, voice hard in a way he’s seldom heard. “She was your friend and you poisoned her.”

He stares back at her helplessly. He doesn’t know what else to say, she was present for his explanation earlier, what else is there for him to say?

“You could have told her your plan. Could have told her why you were doing it before you did it.”

“I couldn’t.” He sighs, having thought this himself many times afterwards. “I had no way of knowing that she wasn’t cooperating with Morgause. I didn’t want to think she was but I couldn’t risk it.”

She purses her lips, staring back at him with cold eyes. “If you ever do something like that again,” she says slowly, voice chilly. “I will make sure your body is the next one in the ground.” There’s a note of finality in her voice that sends a chill down his spine.

He doesn’t doubt her and he also can’t bring himself to blame her. Not really. If the positions were reversed, if someone had hurt Arthur, he wouldn’t hesitate to put them in the ground.

“If she were to turn on Camelot,” he asks hesitantly, wanting to know. “What would you do?”

She swallows, glances away. The silence drags, heavy and telling, and he thinks for a moment that she won’t answer him at all.

“Not that it matters, because she won’t be doing that,” she says finally, voice still unusually cold. “But I go where my lady goes.” It’s barely an answer at all and yet, it’s all the answer he needs.

“Let’s hope we never come to that,” he says, sighing heavily and slouching down.

The silence drags out, a little less oppressive, a little more comfortable and he can feel his eyes slipping close. He really is exhausted.

“Will you show me something else?”

He blinks, shaking himself awake and finds her watching him curiously, all the previous coolness washed away. “Sorry?”

“Your magic, will you show me something else?” She’s leaning forward slightly, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Yeah,” he sits up a little straighter, still fuzzy and tired. “Yeah, I can. Did Morgana not…?”

“She said most of what she knows is for battles, for fighting and we came to the conclusion that you must have been studying it before you even came to Camelot.”

He doesn’t bother to correct her, sure he’ll end up having to explain it all later anyways. “Oh…yeah, that reminds me. How did you figure it out anyways?”

She fixes him with a flat look, as if surprised that he even has to ask. “Merlin, I love you, but you are not very subtle. I haven’t let myself think on any of the strange things that have happened over the years or I would have put it together far sooner.”

“Oh…” he mutters, flushing. He had thought that he was doing so well at keeping his magic a secret too. “But you were surprised that Arthur knew?”

“Well yes… It’s just that,” she pauses and smiles sweetly at him. “It’s only that, Arthur seems to be blind about many things when it comes to you. I figured that was just another one of them.”

“Why do I feel like this is common knowledge among the servants?” He asks wryly, wondering if there will be anyone at all surprised to find out he’s sleeping with Arthur.

This time she really does hesitate, biting her lip and flushing guiltily. “Erm… which part?”

“Which…” he starts in confusion and then cuts himself off sharply. “You can’t mean that…?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t know for sure but, honestly, I could be entirely wrong. I probably am wrong you know, I mean, I didn’t truly put it together until yesterday, and I’m sure it’s not…” she trails off grimacing at him, while he gapes in horror.

“Arthur is going to murder me,” he whispers, burying his face in his hands.

She grimaces harder. “Well on the bright side, they all seem to like you?”

“I don’t think he’ll care about that as comforting as it is,” he mutters.

“Maybe he’ll punish you then,” she says so innocently that it takes a minute for the words to truly register.

He shoots up to find her smiling sweetly at him again. _“Gwen!”_ he exclaims, willing his face to cool down.

She bursts into laughter, bending over in her seat, clutching at her sides. “I’m sorry,” she gets out between giggles. “Your face though.”

“Morgana’s corrupted you,” he mutters playfully, smiling at her despite himself. “Here…” He holds his hand out, fingers closed over his palm, glaring at it in concentration.

His magic rushes forward and he thinks for a second that he’s finally done it. Only for a second and then he unfolds his fingers to find, “A rose! Oh, Merlin! That’s beautiful,” Gwen declares, smiling and reaching for it.

“It was supposed to be strawberries,” he says quietly, the familiar pang in his chest making an appearance. “It always turns into a rose though.”

“Oh Merlin,” she says quietly, clearly reading the grief on his face. “Here, come here.”

He goes easily, Gwen has always given the best hugs (not counting his mother’s) and he never turns one down. Especially not when he’s reminded of the girl he failed, of all the people that his magic wasn’t strong enough to save.

  


⚔

  


There are voices coming from his room, too quiet for him to make any words out. He pushes the door open slowly, wondering if Morgana has already shown up. He dearly hopes not. He wants nothing more than to take a nap and kiss Merlin into the bed again.

Two things that cannot happen if Morgana has already shown back up.

It’s not Morgana that he finds when he peaks in his room— thank god.

It’s not Morgana, but the scene is equally annoying.

Merlin is slouched in what Arthur privately thinks of as Merlin’s chair, which wouldn’t be out of the ordinary by itself. Wouldn’t be, except that… Guinevere is sitting in his lap, back to the door, feet dangling over the other arm of the chair, slowly carding her hands through Merlin’s hair as they talk.

He knows, he really does, that Merlin and Guinevere are friends. They’ve been friends since Merlin came to Camelot, weeks before Arthur and Merlin could even stand each other. He also knows that they have a tendency towards physical affection that is usually seen as inappropriate, neither of them seeming to care a whit for societal expectations.

He knows all of this but it still leaves something sour curling in his stomach. He blames this as the reason he nearly slams the door close.

Guinevere to her credit doesn’t even flinch. He’s not sure if that’s because she already knew he was there or because she’s used to Morgana slamming her way into rooms. Merlin doesn’t even look up. He feels as if he should be offended that slamming the door to his own room shut didn’t garner any type of reaction at all.

“Something either of you would like to tell me?” He demands sarcastically, not really expecting an answer. Or at least not a serious one.

“We’re having an affair,” Merlin says, turning to rest his head on Guinevere’s shoulder so that he can look at Arthur.

Arthur has his mouth already opened to respond, jealousy still curled up tight under his skin, when he catches sight of Merlin’s red rimmed eyes. He stands there staring, for far longer than he’d care to admit, concern rippling through him. His only comfort is that it must not be him causing Merlin distress or they wouldn’t be in his rooms.

“You could have told me we were having an affair,” Guinevere says quietly, after the silence has dragged on for too long, her voice chiding.

Merlin huffs out a short burst of laughter, not looking away from Arthur.

He clears his throat, glances around the room and then does a double take, glancing around a second time. “It’s unusually clean in here,” he says, staring at how neatly the drapes are creased. Have they ever looked that neat since Merlin was assigned as his manservant?

Gwen perks up immediately, scrambling her way off of Merlin’s lap to gesture around excitedly. “Isn’t it brilliant!” She exclaims, beaming at him and gesturing some more. He blinks down at her and then looks around the room again.

“Er… Yes?” He tries, not sure what’s so brilliant about a clean room.

She visibly deflates, wrinkling her nose and looking back at Merlin. “Yes, I suppose it is less brilliant if you weren’t here to see it happen.” She muses and he stares at her, still lost as to what she’s talking about. “Well, I suppose I’ll leave you two alone,” she says after another second of grimacing at him, smiling at Merlin and then turning to curtsy at him.

She’s gone before he can do more than narrow his eyes. Gone before he can tell her to keep Morgana _away_ from his rooms until dinner. Merlin is still blinking up at him, eyes red rimmed and mouth set in a thin line that never means anything good.

“Is everything okay?” He asks hesitantly, walking forward and cupping Merlin’s cheek. “Are you okay?”

Merlin sighs softly, turning and placing a kiss on the center of his palm. “I’m fine,” he says quietly and Arthur wouldn’t have believed him even if he hadn’t been able to hear the grief in his voice. “I’m just tired.”

Arthur studies him, the way his eyes keep drifting closed, his hands loose and open in his lap, the way he keeps nuzzling into Arthur’s palm, soft and quiet. He may be tired but that’s not all that’s wrong. That’s not all but, he supposes there will be time later to talk. For now, they should rest and build some of their energy back up.

Dinner is closer than either of them are prepared for. “Come on,” he murmurs, reaching down to grip Merlin’s wrist and pull him up. “Let’s go to bed.”

Merlin being the idiot that he is still finds the energy to smirk at him. “I’m still wearing your shirt,” he says, swaying towards him, close enough that Arthur could count his eyelashes.

“Yes,” he murmurs around the lump that keeps finding its way into his throat. “I see that.” He had meant it earlier when he’d told Merlin that he wanted him waiting in his bed but now, with hours stretched ahead of them, he just wants to curl up around Merlin and never move again. Not think about any of the trials and battles to come. Wants to think of nothing except for the way that his shirt hangs loose around Merlin’s wrists and leaves his collarbone just barely poking above the neckline.

“Come on,” he says again, tugging Merlin towards the bed. “We’ve got a few hours to rest.”

Merlin hums quietly, helping him strip out of his clothes, before stripping off his pants and crawling into the bed. Arthur stands there for a moment, staring at the way Merlin seems to sink into the bed, knees to his chest, dark hair and white sheets. How does someone so small and so breakable, hold so much power within themselves?

“Come on prat,” Merlin mumbles, reaching behind himself, fingers grasping at air. “Get in the bed.”

He feels a smile tugging at his lips, Merlin sounds half asleep already, fingers still grasping at air. He crawls into the bed, lacing their fingers together, feeling every piece of him settle at the way Merlin sighs, tension he’d barely noticed melting out of his body. As if all he needs is Arthur’s skin against his to erase it. He presses himself against Merlin, chest to chest, settles into the hollows of his spine, legs intertwined. Presses himself so close that he can feel Merlin’s heart beating out a steady tempo against his own chest.

Merlin falls asleep instantly, clearly exhausted and Arthur can only assume it’s emotional exhaustion, something which he can heartily relate to, although it hasn’t tired him out quite as much. His secrets not weighing as heavy on his shoulders, the consequences of them dulled by the crown that never truly seems to leave his head.

Merlin sleeps and Arthur lays there, counting his breaths and thinking of all the ways this could go wrong. All the ways he could end up losing everyone he cares about. If they fail, if something goes wrong, he’ll lose them all. What good is he as Crown Prince, as future king, if he cannot keep those closest to him safe and protected?

If it was just Morgana or Gwen that he stood to lose, he thinks he could carry on. It would shatter something inside of him that he doesn’t think he’d ever be able to recover from but he would carry on. But Merlin, if he loses him, if he has to deal with the knowledge that Merlin is gone or dead, he’s not sure he’ll have the will to carry on.

At best he’ll be a hollow king, crown on his head and destined to end up walking the same path as his father. He can see it all too well, the way the loss would carve its way through him until he finds himself doing anything to erase any reminders of it.

If they fail, he loses everything, himself included.

But if they succeed…

He closes his eyes, pictures Morgana’s smile, vicious and delighted. Pictures Gwen smiling softly, steel hiding underneath skin, always watching Morgana’s back, trusting that she’ll do the same. Sees Merlin, head tipped back, eyes burning gold, so happy that the castle itself seems to vibrate with it.

If they fail, then Camelot is doomed to repeat the same cycle of hate and loss.

But if they succeed…

He whispers a prayer into Merlin’s hair and holds him closer, barely daring to believe.

  


⚔

  


Lancelot feels like shit.

Really, there’s no better way to phrase it or dress up. He’s groggy, his head stuffed with cotton and he’s most likely, irredeemably messed up his sleep schedule. Which is a tragedy, considering he has patrol to the outlying villages at dawn tomorrow.

He may have to go to Gaius and request a sleeping potion so that he can sleep through the night. Or hope for the best and risk falling off of his horse during patrol. Something that the other guards will never let him live down.

He shouldn’t have gone to sleep at all but Gwen had been persistent. Had threatened to stand outside his house to make sure he didn’t sneak off to training. That he would have to sneak was already absurd and yet, he’s sure she would have found some way to make him regret it if he had.

She was… remarkably resourceful when she wanted to be and especially right now, with tempers running high. She was not in the type of mood that he wanted to mess with. He finds himself genuinely fearing for the next person to look at Morgana the wrong way.

Thinking of Morgana reminds him of the way Gwen had nearly clung to her shadow on their way into Arthur’s rooms this morning. The way she had barely even glanced at him, far too preoccupied with her Lady. It isn’t that he begrudges Morgana the relationship she has with Gwen, never that. It is hard to begrudge someone something that they so clearly value and need.

No, it isn’t that at all. He just finds himself wondering what it tastes like to have someone so devoted to you, that they would commit treason to see you safe. Arthur has Merlin and vice versa. Morgana has Gwen and he believes that even when she had thought that Gwen had betrayed her, he thinks she would have destroyed anyone who had dared hurt her and now— now he pities the fool who touches Gwen without her permission.

He had thought for a while that maybe Gwen could be that for him. Had thought the spark of attraction between was enough to build a life on but, Gwen has always put Morgana first. Even before her father died, she had _always_ dropped everything when Morgana needed her. And he knows that her next priority after Morgana is Merlin, which he cannot fault her for. How he could fault anyone for being Merlin’s friend he doesn’t know.

He should be happy really. He has a job as a castle guard, a house, friends. He knows that Arthur plans on making him a Knight of Camelot once he becomes King. Something that is looking like it will happen much sooner than planned. His childhood dream is soon to come true and yet…

There is always something missing.

“Lancelot!”

He looks up, so caught up in his thoughts that he’s barely realized that he’s walked nearly all the way to Arthur’s rooms. Leon is smiling curiously at him, the head Knight one of the only ones to take the time to stop and speak with him. He has suspicions that this is less because Leon cares and more because he knows of Arthur’s plans.

“Sir Leon,” he replies, smiles politely.

“Where are you heading?”

He hesitates, not wanting to lie but not sure if he’s supposed to let it be common knowledge where he’s spending his evening.

“Ah,” Leon smiles crookedly, and Lance is beginning to question his earlier thoughts about Leon not caring. “I’m heading there as well, we can walk together.”

Lance nods, smiling pleasantly again and desperately hoping that they really are going to the same place. If not this will be awfully awkward.

“I didn’t spot you at guard’s practice today,” Leon says casually, not looking at him as they walk. “Is everything well?”

“Ah yes, I’m fine. I was ah… I was rather forced to stay home today,” he says wryly, thinking that Leon at least will understand this.

“Forced?”

“Gwen.”

“Ah…” A pause and then Leon chuckles, casting his eyes towards the ceiling as if asking for patience. “Yes, I can understand that all too well. Tell me, did she threaten to stand outside your door to make sure you didn’t sneak off?”

He laughs, “Has she done that to you as well?”

“I’m the one who taught her that trick,” Leon says wryly, a smirk briefly crossing his face. Lance narrowly resists the urge to stop and gape.

They reach Arthur’s rooms right as the servant exits from bringing dinner and Lance is relieved to find that they had indeed been heading towards the same place.

They enter the room to find the other four already seated at the table, Morgana and Arthur at opposite ends. Morgana wearing her purple dress that she seems to be fond of wearing when she goes into, what she views as, battle. Arthur is wearing white, and Merlin seated to his right, seems to be wearing another of Arthur’s shirts. Gwen is seated to Morgana’s right, smiling at something Morgana has said and—

—for a moment, the setting sun catches their profiles, leaving them sun soaked and golden, crowns of light upon their heads. Upon the heads of all four of them, perfectly balanced in every way that matters and suddenly Lance can see the future stretching ahead of them. Golden and blessed, the Albion that Merlin speaks of in hushed tones unfolding before him.

He’s still blinking sunlight out of his eyes, heart thudding in his chest, when Gwen glances over, eyes immediately settling on Leon.

“Leon?” she blinks curiously at him, hand pressed to the table as if to rise. “What are you doing here?”

“I had Arthur invite him,” Morgana says before Leon can do more than smile at Gwen.

Gwen turns to stare at Morgana, clearly catching some deeper meaning not meant for the rest of them to understand. “My lady,” she murmurs, face gone soft and besotted. “Thank you.”

Morgana blushes, glancing away and glaring down the table at Arthur who’s snickering in his hands.

“Come sit down, please,” Gwen says motioning from Leon to the chair next to her.

Merlin turns to smile at him, looking only slightly less exhausted than Lance feels, and motions for him to sit in the chair next to him.

He can’t help but wonder if this is how they would fall if they were forced to draw lines in the sand. If forced to choose between his King, his Prince and his friend, where would Leon fall? It’s not even a question for him and he wonders if it isn’t the same for Leon as well.

He leans back in the chair, gratefully taking the goblet of wine that Merlin hands him, pointedly eyeing the shirt of Arthur’s that he’s wearing and shooting him a wry grin. Merlin flushes, looking pleased and embarrassed all at once and Lance is happy for his friend. Happy that he can finally be free with Arthur in a way he’s never been able to before.

That anger that he’d let fester overnight is still sitting under his skin but he presses it down. He’s made his feelings clear on the matter and now his place in the matter is to step aside unless Merlin asks for his assistance.

“Shall we begin then?” Morgana asks, sending a pointed look at Arthur that is hopefully not meant to be subtle.

Arthur coughs, looking away from Merlin and to Leon, who is glancing between Arthur and Merlin with a surprised, yet pleased look.

“I apologize for my earlier assumptions, sire,” Leon says, perfectly polite. “I can see that I was very wrong.” Perfectly polite and yet, Arthur and Merlin both flush red.

Arthur glares down the table at Morgana, who is smiling behind her hand, eyes glittering gleefully. “Yes, well, anyways,” Arthur mutters, clearing his throat and straightening. “We have a few matters to brief you on, Sir Leon.”

Leon stares back, expression perfectly blank. He does wonder if anyone else realizes that this polite, unassuming facade is just that, a facade. Gwen’s head snaps down, but he can just barely see the edge of a smirk and yes, it does seem that at least one person is aware.

“A briefing, sire? Is there a battle that I need to be made aware of?”

“Not as of yet, no. I’ve been told, by Guinevere and Morgana, that I can trust you. Is this true?”

Leon stares, mouth just barely thinning. Shifts the stare to each of them, holding each person’s gaze for a long moment, eyes piercing. It’s Gwen that he stares at the longest, the two of them seemingly communicating without ever saying a word and he sees Morgana watching them with a curious, narrow eyed expression.

“You’ve made a choice then?” Leon asks quietly, the question directed at Gwen.

“I have.”

Leon considers her for another moment before turning back to Arthur. “Yes sire, you can trust me with whatever the four of you are planning.”

Arthur and Morgana exchange a look at the deliberate exclusion of Lancelot himself but he knows it’s true. He’s here to help and offer his opinions but he doesn’t fancy himself in charge of anything that is about to happen. 

“That is good to hear,” Arthur says slowly, still assessing Leon carefully, a curious glint in his eyes. “The first thing you need to know is that Morgana has magic,” he says casually, as if they aren’t all tensed and ready to fight if Leon should react the wrong way.

The tension in the air is so thick that he thinks he could drop a pot and it would hang there, suspended above the table, held up by nothing but their own uncertainty. Leon, for his part, does nothing but blink at them, eyebrows rising in surprise.

“I see,” he says carefully, turning to look at Morgana again. They stare at each for a minute, Morgana tilting her chin up defiantly, Leon with his head tilted in thought. “My lady, I trust that you are taking to it as quickly as you took to beating Arthur with a sword?”

Morgana stares, wide-eyed and shocked, before tipping her head back and breaking into laughter, shoulders shaking from the force of her amusement. Arthur is gaping at Leon, betrayal written across his face.

“Leon!” Arthur exclaims. “That did _not_ happen!”

From his seat he can see Leon wink at Gwen before turning back to Arthur. “I’m sorry sire, that’s not how I remember it.”

Merlin is shaking next to him, trying to hold in his laughter and utterly failing. He exchanges an amused glance with Gwen, knowing that Arthur and Morgana can snip at each other for ages if left to it.

“So, Leon,” Gwen interjects, speaking right over whatever denials Arthur is spouting, while Morgana continues to laugh. “You don’t have any problems with this?”

Leon coughs, looking a bit abashed for a moment. “I had not expected it but no, I don’t have a problem with it. For reasons that I will explain in a moment,” He says, very carefully not looking at Gwen, who is staring at him with narrowed eyes.

“Yes, well, we’re happy to hear that regardless,” Arthur says, crossing his arms, still glaring at Morgana. “Because, Merlin here, has magic as well.”

There’s a distinct lack of surprise on Leon’s face that has Arthur tensing, hand automatically reaching for his sword.

“Ah, yes,” Leon coughs, running a hand through his hair and smiling apologetically at Merlin. “I’m sorry to say that I already knew that.”

 _“What,”_ Merlin chokes out, the word half strangled and horrified.

Leon grimaces. “Yes, sorry Merlin, but I’ve known since Arthur mysteriously recovered from the questing beast.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Morgana once again bursts into peals of laughter.

Next to him, he thinks Merlin may be choking on air.

Lancelot, for his part, doesn’t even know why they’re surprised.

  


⚔

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all don't be surprised if the next chapter also ends up not being the last chapter.....there was supposed to be a lot more headway made in this one and they just did not cooperate. BUT! Chapter 3 is done and out there way faster than I thought it would be so I hope you enjoyed <3


	4. Chapter 4

Leon finds no shame in admitting that the look of shock still frozen on Merlin’s face is honestly hilarious. The poor boy had clearly thought he was doing such a good job of keeping his magic hidden and Leon almost feels as if he should have let him keep that thought. Soon enough it won’t matter anyways.

Morgana is still hysterically laughing, as Arthur looks wildly between all of them as if he can’t believe that this is what his life has come to. Lancelot looks very, very tired and Leon isn’t sure if that’s because of the situation or because he is honestly tired. Perhaps a mixture of both?

Gwen’s eyes are heavy on the side of his face and he knows they’ll be talking about this later. About the way he’s carefully kept this from her for years. But they’ve both kept secrets the past couple years, since Merlin came to Camelot and everything began to spin rapidly out of control.

They explain the story to him in pieces, each of them chiming in at different times. He can better understand now why they all have the same exhausted look in their eyes, even Morgana, despite how much better she hides hers. He can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the revelation that Arthur has only just told Merlin that he was aware of his magic. He had been so sure that they’d had that conversation before the questing beast.

He still vividly remembers the grim look that had settled on Arthur’s face when no one could find Merlin for him. The jittery, anxious energy that had Leon searching the castle again just to be sure, just in case and he remembers all the revelations that it had led to.

He smiles at Lancelot when he hears of the way he punched Arthur, despite never having dared raise his voice or hand to the prince before. Gives him a nod that once again cause’s Arthur to stare at him with speculative eyes.

“So,” he says once everyone has trailed off, expectant eyes settled on him. “I take it that the four of you plan to take the throne?”

There’s a pregnant pause, a lot of rapid blinking, Lancelot looking down to hide a smirk.

“When you say, the four of us….” Merlin says delicately, trailing off in question.

“I mean, the four of you will be ruling? Did I misunderstand?” He knows very well that isn’t what any of them had meant but he also knows that it’s where they’re all headed even if they haven’t realized it yet.

The pause is shorter this time, even as a frankly astonishing number of emotions flash across Arthur’s face.

 _“WHAT?!”_ Merlin screeches, nearly falling out of his chair in his haste to scramble into a more upright position.

“Leon, what on earth led you to that conclusion?” Arthur asks exasperated, running a hand over his face.

He hesitates, Gwen’s eyes still digging holes into the side of his head. “I only meant—”

“I think it’s a grand idea,” Morgana declares, cutting him off.

Arthur narrows his eyes at her, looking as if he regrets this entire conversation.

“I would just like to add that I also believe it to be a good idea,” Lancelot says, grinning at Merlin who promptly elbows him in the side. “I still think it’s a brilliant idea despite being assaulted by one of my future King’s.” He laughs even as Merlin tips his chair over, eyes glowing gold.

Leon doesn’t mean to stare but it's the first time that he’s actually seen Merlin doing magic despite knowing that he has it and uses it quite often. Gwen elbows him in the side before Merlin can catch him staring and he winces, throwing a grateful smile at her.

He glances back over, only to find Arthur staring at Merlin, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide and shocked and, if he isn’t mistaken, what looks like a blush crawling up his neck. Merlin turns from grinning viciously down at Lancelot, turns and catches Arthur’s gaze, freezing at whatever he sees in Arthur’s eyes.

 _“No,”_ he breathes, the word barely audible. “You cannot seriously be considering this?” He asks incredulously.

Arthur frowns at him, face scrunched up in offense. “It is not an entirely awful idea,” he says after a moment, somehow managing to make the words sound like an insult. Merlin looks horrified by this turn of events.

“Not an…” Merlin gapes, turns to glare at him, clearly put out that Leon’s put the idea out there. “Gwen,” he says desperately. “You can’t be alright with this?” He turns pleading eyes on Gwen who shifts uncomfortably next to him.

Morgana though is staring at Gwen with soft, bright eyes and from his seat he can see that she’s grasping Gwen’s hand under the table. He knows Gwen’s answer before she gives it. Knows that she would never deny Morgana anything when she looked at her like that.

He used to worry about the power that Morgana held over Gwen. About the way Gwen watched Morgana as if she were something blessed, something sacred to hold in her palms. It had taken him a long time to realize that Morgana watched Gwen with the same expression, as if Gwen were a fragile, delicate thing to be touched only with the greatest care.

He had worried less after that. He still worried but about other things but less about Gwen being hurt by Morgana. He knows what Gwen will say, never able to deny Morgana anything when she looks at her with that face. Knows that choice was made long before they ever bothered to speak about it.

Gwen exhales heavily, the movement causing her to just barely brush her arm against his. “Perhaps not immediately,” she says hesitantly, clearly not wanting to give a direct answer. “But later on maybe? After the uproar from usurping the throne dies down.”

Arthur’s face twists in a decidedly pained way and Leon can’t help but wonder if it’s the first time he’s heard this mad idea phrased that way. Or if he’s been carefully thinking of it in less treasonous terms. The same way he had looked at Leon, 10 years olds and sneaking out to train, and said _I’m not hiding, I’m practicing so that I can protect people. So, that I can protect Morgana!_ The same way Leon had looked at Merlin, constantly flinging himself into danger, and said, it’s not treason protecting him if he’s saving the prince’s life.

“We could do it immediately if we wanted to,” Morgana says quietly, but she doesn’t push.

“What exactly is the plan?” He asks, wondering if they have one at all. Considering the silence that follows his question he can’t help but think he’s right. “You don’t have a plan.”

Arthur coughs, sheepishly smiling at him. “No, not quite yet but it’s not as if we’re short on time and I’d like to do this in a way that ends with as little blood spilled as possible.”

“Two months,” Morgana says, voice cold in a way he’s never heard.

“Excuse me?” Arthur asks tightly, clearly already understanding her meaning.

“If he isn’t off of that throne in the next two months, I will take matters into my own hands.”

“Morgana—”

“No. He will come off that throne or I _will_ kill him,” she snarls. “He would see me dead, Arthur.” She pauses, smiling sardonically. “He would see Merlin _dead._ ”

Arthur says nothing, staring back at her, eyes just as cold.

There’s a long oppressive moment of silence, the air thick and heavy with all the ways this could still go, so terribly wrong. Merlin has gone tense and still, eyes wintery and Leon can’t help but wonder if it’s their magic making the air so heavy and threatening. Both of them steadfast in which side they’re on. He hopes it never comes to this, to Arthur and Morgana facing off across a field. Knows where Gwen and Merlin will fall, knows who he’ll end up following regardless of duty or oaths given.

“If it comes to that,” Arthur says finally, voice low and harsh. “You will not be welcomed in this castle anymore.”

Morgana smiles, no happiness present on her face. “I would expect nothing else,” she says, as if she’s resigned herself to that already. “But his reign must come to an end. I will see that happen one way or another.”

They stare at each other for a while longer, understanding each other in a way that no one else here can, although Leon likes to believe that he and Gwen come the closest. They’re bound together in a way no one else can understand. Uther’s hand heavy in both of their upbringings, the ever present weight of his judgement sitting heavy on both of their shoulders and he knows no one else will ever truly be able to understand how it weighs on them.

Morgana may think that she’s thrown those expectations off, but she still sits here, jewels around her throat like a noose and he knows her hands will shake when the inevitable confrontation with Uther happens. Her hands have always shaken when she’s reached the killing blow. Even in training, blunt sword held to Arthur’s throat, her hands never shook until she was posed to kill him.

“I have an idea,” Gwen says quietly after the silence has dragged on for far too long, a note of steel in her voice that Leon recognizes.

Everyone turns to look at her expectantly and she nearly looks taken aback by how easily their attention shifts. Leon’s told her for years that people respect her more than she believes. Maybe she’ll finally begin to believe that.

“There won’t be any bloodshed needed,” she says, spitting out the word bloodshed as if it’s cursed. “You can both just _take_ the throne.”

“Guinevere,” Arthur sighs. “It’s not that simple—“

“It is,” she cuts him off, confident in her idea. “All you have to do, is speak to the guards and the knight, make them aware of what you plan to do, and then just, take the throne.”

“And what of the ones who do not want to see the throne usurped?” Arthur asks curiously, looking baffled by how confident she is.

“There are very few who will care,” she says turning an expectant look on Leon. “Leon is not the only one who would follow you easily.”

“Leon?” Arthur asks, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

“There have been rumors,” he starts, the familiar sticky sweet taste of treason lying heavy on his tongue. “Ever since you stormed back into the castle and held Uther in his chair at sword point.” He nearly stops speaking at the stricken look that crosses Arthur’s face, but he presses on. “The guards who were present told all of the other guards and the knights. There are only a handful who would oppose you if you were to declare yourself king tomorrow.”

Arthur looks shell shocked and horrified, although Leon is only half sure why since this does seem to be the most ideal solution. Merlin is staring at Arthur with wide, shining eyes, the pride he holds for Arthur clear in his every movement.

“The serving staff will support you as well,” Gwen continues, calm and sure of herself. “The people in the lower town will be overjoyed. I can’t speak for the outer lying villages but I imagine that they will take their cue from how the people in the innermost parts of Camelot react.”

“That seems like a sound assumption,” Morgana says quietly and when Leon glances at her, he finds her watching Gwen with that same soft, besotted expression he’s seen her wear so often tonight, as if she cannot bear to look at Gwen with any other expression on her face.

“I don’t understand,” Arthur says quietly, sounding strangely lost. “Have the people been actively wanting me to take the throne from my father?”

There’s a pause as they all exchange uneasy looks. Morgana stays quiet, presumably because she knows that she can offer Arthur no comfort in this.

“I have gotten the sense,” Lancelot says, sounding sure despite his relative quiet so far. “That the people of Camelot are far more loyal to their prince than to their king.” Arthur still looks lost and Lancelot sighs slightly before continuing. “Sire, you are the one they interact with the most. You ride into battle for them, you slay the monsters, you argue with your father when he tries to raise their taxes too high…”

“You joke with your servant,” Gwen says, picking up easily where Lancelot left off. “You allow a common born man to speak to you as if he’s the same rank as you and it has stripped most of their fear of you away. They know that you are kind and just and it isn’t that they are waiting for you to usurp your father but, they trust that if you do, then you must have a noble reason.”

The look on Arthur’s face isn’t one that Leon knows how to read, but judging by the concerned look on Merlin’s he doesn’t believe this meeting will last much longer.

“And of course,” he says, feeling it necessary to add this. “The people adore Lady Morgana and will be delighted to have her as their Queen. You will find few who would be unhappy with the choice.” He nods respectfully at Morgana, finding himself pleased when she smiles back at him.

“There can be nothing more noble than doing this to protect your friends,” Lancelot says, eyes steady on Arthur’s face, clearly seeing something Leon cannot. He thinks at times that Lancelot may see Arthur more clearly than any of them, save Merlin, due to his friendship with said servant.

The meeting doesn’t last much longer after that, Arthur gone quiet and contemplative, Merlin too busy watching Arthur with worried eyes to contribute much of anything.

The last thing Leon sees as he glances behind himself, the last one out of the room, is Merlin gently taking Arthur’s face in his hands, a soft fragile look on his features that has Leon closing the door as gently as possible for fear of breaking it.

Tomorrow he will have training and will begin carefully reaching out to the other knights, making them aware of the events soon to come but for now, at least he can go to bed with the knowledge that his prince is in good hands.

He meets Gwen’s eyes as she turns to walk with Morgana and nods, raising an eyebrow at her, she smiles back at him and he knows that tomorrow they will have much to discuss.

Coincidentally, tomorrow he will also be ten silver poorer as he seems to have lost their bet.

  


⚔

  


Arthur is quiet and contemplative as Merlin helps him get ready for bed, eyes distant even as his fingers continually come up to brush at Merlin’s wrist, as if reassuring himself that Merlin is still there.

It’s for this reason that he doesn’t bother pushing, confident that Arthur will speak on his own if Merlin merely gives him time. It never even crosses his mind to leave and go back to his own room, not until he’s already climbing into the bed, Arthur on his back, staring at the canopy as if it holds the answers to his questions.

“Er..” he hesitates, suddenly wondering if he should have asked if it was alright to stay.

“Don’t be stupid, Merlin.” Arthur sighs, turning on his side to stare at him with an expectant look.

He smiles sheepishly, feeling foolish, quickly getting himself under the covers. He mirrors Arthur, laying on his side, one hand on the bed between them as he watches Arthur’s face.

Arthur twines their fingers together instantly, drawing the back of Merlin’s hand to his mouth, lips lingering there for a long while. Merlin nearly falls asleep before Arthur lowers their hands, thumb rubbing circles over the spot his lips had been.

“Is my father, truly that awful of a king?” He asks quietly, face shadowed, voice strained.

Merlin sighs, leave it to Arthur to go straight for the hardest question of them all. “He does what he believes is best for the kingdom,” he says, sighing when Arthur’s face twists into a snarl. “But…” he squeezes Arthur’s hand tight to keep him from interrupting. “… he rules through fear. You know this, I know you do. The people listen to him because they are scared to do otherwise.”

Arthur stays silent, even as the snarl slips away and Merlin presses his own lips to the back of Arthur’s hands, reversing their positions. Lets himself focus on the smell of Arthur’s skin and the way it reminds him of home.

“And what of me? What kind of King will I be?” Arthur’s eyes are dark and heavy when they find his.

“You will be a great king,” he murmurs , never moving his lips from Arthur’s hand. “You will be the greatest king that Albion has ever seen but,” he slides closer until he’s nose to nose with Arthur. “Most importantly, you will be loved by your people. You will be so, so loved and they will listen because they respect and cherish you.”

Arthur stares at him, eyes shining with an emotion that Merlin can’t quite place. He’s become so used to divining Arthur’s emotions in the subtle gestures that he doesn’t know what to make of the emotions when they’re shining right in front of him.

“What on earth did I do to deserve you?” Arthur chokes out, sounding wrecked.

He feels his answering smile tremble around the edges at the emotion carved into Arthur’s face. It feels like the greatest thing he could ever be gifted, the privilege of being allowed to see the emotions that Arthur usually keeps hidden so far away.

“Oh dollophead, you don’t deserve me.”

Arthur huffs out a laugh, rolling his eyes at Merlin’s attempt to break the tension. “No, no, you’ve got it all backwards, Mer _lin_ , it is clearly you who doesn’t deserve me,” he snarks, still sounding choked, rolling and pinning Merlin into place, hands locked around his wrists, pinning him to the bed.

Merlin can do nothing other than smile up at him, besotted and so very in love with his King.

“Whatever am I to do with you?” Arthur asks, staring down at him and grins delightedly when Merlin arches up into him with a suggestive smirk.

“I can think of a few things.”

“And what have I told you about speaking to me like that,” Arthur murmurs, leaning closer, lips just barely brushing over the pulse point on his neck.

He swallows thickly, body reaching for Arthur’s and being held down. “I can think of a few things, _my lord_.”

Arthur shudders, teeth scraping the side of his neck, presses the whole of himself against Merlin and smirks against his neck when Merlin whimpers, trying to arch up despite there being no space left between them.

“Tell me what you want,” Arthur murmurs, fingers pressing bruises into Merlin’s hip.

“Arthur, I—” he breaks off, biting his lip as Arthur’s fingers ghost over the side of his ribs.

 _“Tell me—”_ he murmurs, the words punctuated by the way his hand slowly curls around Merlin’s neck. _“—what you want.”_ He pulls back to catch Merlin’s eyes, hand loosely wrapped around his throat and Merlin lays there, heart trying to strain its way out of his body.

“You,” he gasps, breathless at the depth of emotion in Arthur’s eyes. “Always you. It is _always_ you.“

Arthur stares at him for a long second, lips parted, eyes as dark as the storm clouds that Merlin had seen brewing earlier in the day.

“It isn’t the people’s love that will make me a good king,” Arthur says finally, voice low and harsh. “I think I would be whatever type of king pleases you the most if you would only keep looking at me like that.”

Merlin’s blood freezes, heart stuttering in horror, seeing all too well the meaning behind those words. The reality of what will happen if he ever dies and leaves Arthur alone. It is not a picture he wishes to see.

“Then it is a good thing that I wish only for you to be the good and just king that I know you will be,” he says slowly, pressing a palm to Arthur’s cheek and frowning at the wetness he hadn’t noticed before.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Arthur says before leaning in to kiss him.

They kiss long and slow, spit slick lips sliding apart, teeth catching on lips, tongues curling their way around each other and Arthur’s hand, when it makes its way off of Merlin’s neck and down into his pants, barely has to do any work at all before Merlin is choking on a moan, toes curling, fingers curling their way through Arthur’s hair.

His magic lays curled around him, winding its way around Arthur’s wrists, and humming softly, content with its king so near for so long. He flips them over, smiling at Arthur’s surprised huff.

“Let me make it good for you,” he whispers, holding Arthur’s eyes as he slides down his body. He presses his face to the hollow of Arthur’s hip, chest feeling too full and close to overflowing with emotion.

He had thought that he would never have this. Thought that he would spend the rest of his life watching from afar until he ran himself into the ground trying to keep Arthur safe.

And now Arthur is here, underneath him, skin warm and soft beneath his hands. “Merlin…” Arthur trails off as Merlin looks back up at him, eyes searching and hand gentle where curls around his cheek. “Merlin…”

“My king,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s palm.

The awed light in Arthur’s eyes stays with him for days, and later, when thunder cracks above the castle, he finds himself no longer sure if it’s because of the storm or because of the way his magic rushes out, wild and free, racing to tell all of Albion that its king is coming.

  


⚔

  


Morgana is quiet as Gwen helps her get ready for bed, eyes heavy on her, tracking every moment as if she expects her to suddenly disappear. The silence holds, even as Morgana settles into the bed. Holds and holds until there is nothing left to do but douse the candles and go to her own bed.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, my lady?” She asks, meeting Morgana’s eyes expectantly. There is a question waiting to be asked, the only unknown is whether or not Morgana will ask it.

“Sit with me for a moment,” Morgana says, patting the space next to her.

“Is this going to be like the last two nights?” She asks wryly, smiling at the red that just barely touches Morgana’s cheekbones. “Where you’ve kept me so long that I’ve fallen asleep.”

“If you wish to spend the night with me, I wouldn’t object,” Morgana says stiffly, as always she seems to forget that Gwen knows her far too well.

“My lady,” she starts delicately, not wanting to offend Morgana into sending her away. “If you wish for me to stay the night so that you aren’t alone, you only have to ask.”

nose wrinkles even as she sighs exasperatedly. “Gwen dear, won’t you please spend the night with me?”

“Of course, my lady,” she says, bowing dramatically, even as she laughs.

“Merlin’s been an awful influence on you,” Morgana says, smiling at her, eyes soft in a way that Gwen had begun to fear she wouldn’t ever see again.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, slipping off her shoes and shrugging out of her dress, leaving her in just her slip. “I’ve always been like this, it’s why you had Uther make me your maidservant.” She slips under the covers on Morgana’s right side, leaning back against the pillow and meeting her eyes.

Morgana’s gaze has gone heavy and contemplative again, her eyes not having left Gwen even once.

“What did Leon mean?” She asks quietly, ignoring the way Gwen sighs, having known the question was sure to come. “He said that you had made your choice, what choice did he mean?”

If only there was an easy way to explain this. A way to explain it that would make sense and not leave Morgana looking at her strangely. “You know that Leon and I have known each other since childhood.” She starts, speaking slowly to give herself time to think. “We stopped speaking for a bit, after we both came to Camelot.”

Morgana’s eyebrows raise, Gwen’s never told her this part. “It was about four years I believe, where we didn’t really talk. Which isn’t to say we weren’t friendly with each other, we just never sought each other out.”

“What changed it?” Morgana asks, sounding as if she already knows.

“I was thrown in jail for magic,” she says, rubbing at her wrists, still remembering the way the manacles had felt rubbing against her skin, the coldness that had spread through her, the numbness that had left her sitting on the dungeon floor waiting to die. “Leon came to my house as soon as I was home. He was as close to hysterical as I’ve ever seen him and horrified that I had nearly died.”

“He could have spoken for you? Told Uther that you didn’t have magic.”

“My lady,” she sighs. “Morgana, if Uther didn’t listen to you, he would not have listened to Leon. There was nothing anyone could have done.”

“I suppose,” she says grudgingly, arms crossed.

“We started talking more after that and there was plenty to talk about. Always some crisis striking Camelot. Always something weird happening around Arthur or Merlin or you or all of us. It became a thing, to sit and talk about the events that had happened and put as many pieces together as possible.” She clasps her hands together, staring at the rain that’s crawling down the window pane.

“We always knew bits and pieces of whatever event was going on and we always seemed to have different pieces. And eventually, the pieces we were putting together started to shape a picture of what we felt was coming and so, we started to discuss possible outcomes and what we would do.”

“And what exactly, did you think was to come?” Morgana asks lightly.

“You were growing angrier and angrier with Uther every day,” she glances quickly at Morgana, finding nothing but curiosity. “And neither of us were sure what Arthur’s breaking point would be, or if it would come soon enough. We suspected it would be because of Merlin but we couldn’t figure out why or—” she pauses, considers this for a second. Considers everything she’s learned over the past two days.

“Or I at least didn’t know, although I suppose Leon must have had his suspicions,” she amends. She’ll have to ask him about it tomorrow. “But in every outcome we talked through, it seemed to end with you and Arthur on opposite sides. You both have tempers and without all the details we couldn’t think up a way this would end with you both on the same side.”

“So when he said that you’d chosen a side…” Morgana trails off and Gwen turns to look at her, needing her to understand this part.

“It was never between you or Arthur,” she says, watching the understanding flash over Morgana’s face. “It was between you or Merlin. We both knew who I would pick, we always have, but we put all our options on the table regardless. Leon’s options were Uther, Arthur or me.” She raises her chin slightly at the absolute shock on Morgana’s face. “We _never_ thought that you would trust Arthur enough to go to him,” she says again, needing Morgana to understand this. “But we were counting on two very important variables to stay fixed and never change.”

Morgana swallows, eyes fluttering close for a second. “What variables?” She asks, meeting Gwen’s gaze.

“Arthur and Merlin never leave each other, no matter what happens they always choose each other. And—” she pauses, blinking furiously and wishing it didn’t still sting. “And no matter what, you and I never stopped trusting each other. Even if we lost faith in everyone else, we held faith in each other, because Morgana, my choice was always going to be you.”

The words hang in the air for a long time, Morgana pressing a shaking hand to her mouth, eyes wide and shining.

“ _Gwen,”_ she breathes, frozen and shaking. “I’m sorry, shit, I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” she says softly, exhaustion sitting heavily on her shoulders. “I forgave you two days ago when you told me what happened.”

“I’m still sorry,” Morgana says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and she finds hers burying her face in Morgana’s shoulder gratefully. “I should have known that you wouldn’t ever betray me like that.”

“I don’t blame you,” she says again, feeling sleep coming for her already. It really has been a horrifyingly exhausting twenty four hours.

Morgana sighs again, arranging them more comfortably on the bed and Gwen lets her, limbs heavy and uncooperative. They’ve slept like this before, legs tangled and arms around each other. Usually on nights when Morgana was too exhausted to face the nightmares alone.

But it’s felt more intimate ever since they’d sat in this room, Morgana white faced and shaking, Gwen terrified and furious.

They lay there, Morgana stroking Gwen’s hair slowly, the only sound in the room their breathing and the patter of the rain against the glass.

She’s nearly asleep when she hears Morgana whisper, ever so quiet and clearly not meant for Gwen to hear, “You are the only other woman I could bear to hold the title of Queen,” she whispers, breath warm against Gwen’s cheek. “My Queen, my light. What would become of me without you?”

Gwen means to answer, but sleep claims her before she can do more than clutch the words tightly to her chest.

  


⚔

  


Gwaine is having a lovely day. Or well, lovely in the sense that he’s only an hour away from the next village and his next drink. But it truly is a lovely day. The sun is shining, the birds are singing and he’d won more than he’d expected at dice in the previous village.

Before he’d been kicked out for flirting with the wrong girl and gotten run out of town by a man twice his size. The lass hadn’t been pretty enough to fight such a man and regardless, he’s sure the only way to beat him would have been to kill him, which had seemed unnecessary when there was another village not even a day’s ride away.

Another village, another drink, another lass.

He’s roughly an hour out from the village when he pauses, ducking off of the path at the sound of voice not far ahead around the bend. You can never be too careful, bandits seemingly around every corner in Camelot and he would hate to be robbed when he actually has the coin for alcohol.

He creeps forward, keeping off of the path and behind the trees. He rounds the corner, carefully glancing out onto the road and—

There’s a man in the middle of the path.

This in itself would not be an unusual occurrence.

There’s a man in the middle of the path, sword in hand, blood streaked across his face, hair matted in a way that Gwaine _knows_ means a head wound and he’s surrounded by far too many bandits to take out by himself. Ten to one is hardly fair odds no matter how a good a fighter the man is.

At this point, he might have turned around or continued on past them, on his way to the village. He nearly does. The man is clearly one of Camelot’s knights, some puffed up fucker who probably thinks that he’s better than everyone else because he gets to guard his royal highnesses backside but—

—the man’s eyes catch his and he tenses, waiting for the man to draw attention to him. The man does not, eyes barely lingering but Gwaine knows that he was seen and the man looked away. Looked away without the expectation of help many people would have held in their eyes.

He nearly turns around and gets the hell out there before the bandits notice him too. But he stares for a moment too long, catching the way the man’s hands shake and how steadfastly he refuses to move from above the fallen man he must have been with.

And by the gods, Gwaine can clearly see the opening the man could take, the man he could cut down to give himself enough time to run. He knows the man can see it too, sees the way his eyes keep darting to the opening, but he stands steady, hands shaking, resignation carved into his face and Gwaine is throwing a dagger at the largest of the bandits before he can think it through any further.

The man crumples like a house of cards and the knight snaps his head over to meet Gwaine’s eyes, before flinging himself at the nearest bandit, taking advantage of their momentary shock. He has just enough time to appreciate the way the knight takes out two of the bandits lightning fast, before another two are upon him.

It’s not a long battle.

Three of their men down already and before he knows it, he and the knight are back to back, fighting the four that are left.

“Bloody fucking bastards,” the knight hisses from behind him, back pressing harder against his own for a moment, nearly throwing him off balance and then, before he can do more than hiss in annoyance, another bandit is lying dead on the ground, the man still cussing under his breath. He’s only just taken out another, smiling wickedly at the one still standing in front of him, when he has the lovely, familiar feeling of being stabbed in the leg.

He hisses out a breath, looking behind him to find the knight, one knee on the ground, sword stabbed through the back of the last bandits stomach, not that it had stopped the man from flinging Gwaine’s own fucking dagger at him. The absolute nerve of the bastard. If he wasn’t in so much pain, he might admire him for it.

He grits his teeth, bringing his sword up to block the bandit still in front of him and, teeth grinding together, reaches down to pull the knife out of his own leg and stab the bandit through the neck.

“You idiot!” The knight exclaims, bolting forward to grab him as his leg buckles.

“Aww, come on love, that’s not very nice,” he drawls out, letting the knight help settle him on the ground, grimacing at the pain shooting through him. It’s never seemed fair that a wound to the leg should hurt the rest of him as well. “I did just save your ass after all.“

“You did, I do thank you for that.” the man says quietly, ripping up a tunic that he’s pulled off of one of the bandits, and setting to work binding Gwaine’s leg. “I owe you my life.” His voice is somber and heavy, even as he bends farther over Gwaine’s leg, head level with his stomach.

“Didn’t expect to have a knight on his knees in front of me today,” he murmurs, waiting for the man to revert to the snobbish, holier than thou attitude that all knights are known for. He has yet to meet one that defies his expectations.

He nearly misses the flush that creeps over the man’s face, the color blending in with the blood still streaked over the man’s face. “I’m not a knight,” the man says wryly, despite the blush. “So I do believe you’ll have to wait a bit longer for that to happen.”

It startles a laugh out of him and he rolls his shoulders slightly as the blackness creeps in around the corners of his vision. “Name’s Gwaine, couldn’t do me a favor and just drop me off at the nearest village, eh?” He blinks rapidly, trying to focus on the man’s face.

“Yeah, sure,” the man says easily, leaning back to inspect his work before glancing up at Gwaine. “Whatever you want.” The sun filtering through the trees catches the rawness of his lips and honey brown eyes, and Gwaine’s last thought before passing out, is that it really shouldn’t be allowed for a Camelot knight to look so damn gorgeous.

  


⚔

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So......i no longer know how many chapters there are going to be. I’m hoping only 6 but i was also hoping for 4, so we shall see....
> 
> This was a lot of filler, backstory, world building etc....but stuff should speed up a bit next chapter!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed <3


	5. Chapter 5

Gwen is quiet the next morning and Morgana watches her carefully, wondering if the words she’d said last night had been as secret as she had thought. She keeps waiting for Gwen to change her mind, to look at her and decide that she’s not worth it. That someone who would give up on their friendship so easily isn’t worth it.

Gwen has always been better than her, even when they were children unable to properly understand good and bad, Gwen had been the best of her. She’s never understood what she’d done to inspire such loyalty from someone so effortlessly _good_. Never believed that she deserved it and she’d proven herself right.

“Gwen,” she grabs her wrist before she can leave to do the rest of her chores. “You said, last night, you said that Leon had a choice to make as well. Who did he choose?”

Gwen doesn’t turn from the door, eyes fixed straight ahead, hand clenched tight around the handle. “He’s never said, my lady.”

“Gwen…” she knows the answer, she does but, she needs to hear Gwen say it. “Please. You know don’t you?”

Gwen turns toward her, a wretched expression on her face, eyes pained and mouth tilted downward in a way she hates to see. “Morgana please—”

“I need to know.”

Gwen yanks her hand back, staring at Morgana for a beat before turning back towards the door and she thinks for a moment that Gwen will really leave without answering. Can’t help but wonder if she’s finally found her breaking point.

“Not that it matters,” Gwen says tightly, hands in fists at her sides. “But he chose me. He’s always chosen me, in every scenario.”

“How can that not matter?” She asks, willing her voice to not break. “How can that not mean something?”

“I chose you, Morgana. I’ve always chosen you. He knows that, it’s fine.” She glances over her shoulder and smiles briefly, a small shuddering thing that doesn’t reach her eyes, and then she’s gone.

Morgana stands there, staring at the door, for a very long time. Gwen was wrong. It wasn’t fine. The only question is what to do about it.

  


⚔

  


“Merlin!”

He’s halfway through the castle, on his way to collect herbs for Gaius, when Morgana’s voice stops him. He pauses, turning to smile at her. The novelty of being able to smile at her and mean it ‘causing him to smile even wider than he normally would. “Lady Morgana, how can I help you?”

She smirks, looking amused by the title. “Where are you headed, Merlin?”

“To the forest. I promised Gaius I would help him today,” he answers, gesturing towards the bag and list that he’s holding in his left hand. “I’ve sorely neglected my physician duties the last couple days and now the list is twice as long.”

“I’m surprised Arthur can bear to have you gone for so long?” She says wryly, laughing at exasperated look he gives her.

“Yes, well he doesn’t have much choice unless he wants Gaius to lecture us both.” He turns and keeps walking, Morgana falling into step next to him.

“I believe I’ll walk with you, I could do with the fresh air.” She flips her hair over her shoulder and glares when he gives her a dubious look, pointedly looks at her shoes.

“If you’re sure,” he says slowly, having a feeling that this is less about getting fresh air and more about having a chance to speak with him, without Arthur or Gwen listening. “Where’s Gwen?” He asks, curious as to what could have pulled her away from Morgana’s side.

Morgana’s lips purse for a split second before smoothing back into a smile, the look there and gone so fast he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been watching her the entire time. “She’s with Sir Leon,” she says shortly, a strange note in her voice and he swallows down the laughter that bubbles in his throat.

“I hadn’t realized they were so close…?” He says, trailing off as they hit the courtyard, smiling at the guard who holds the door for them.

“Yes, they’ve been _friends_ for a long time, longer than I’ve known her,” she says absently, staring across the courtyard and he knows what he’s going to see before he looks.

Sure enough, Gwen and Leon are on the opposite side of the courtyard, just passing through the gate, heading towards the lower town. As they watch, Leon says something, smiling down at Gwen, the expression on his face more open than anything Merlin is used to seeing, and Gwen presses a hand to her mouth, laughing delightedly.

He doesn’t say anything until he and Morgana are out of the courtyard and on the path to the clearing where he gathers herbs. “She’d still pick you first,” he says casually, glancing over to see her reaction.

She smirks, amusement flashing over her face. “Yes, Merlin. Thank you but I have rather gathered that by now.”

“Just making sure.”

She doesn’t say anything else as they walk, although he can feel her looking at him occasionally. The clearing opens up in front of them and he hums happily to himself as he starts picking herbs. When he next glances over at Morgana, she’s sprawled on the ground, face tilted up towards the sun and he has to look away, heart in his throat, at how peaceful she looks. Has to look away at the knowledge that they had nearly lost this — lost her.

They stay in silence for a while, Morgana happily soaking up the sun while he searches for the many, many herbs that Gaius had requested. He swears the list is twice as long just so Gaius can make his displeasure with Merlin’s absence known.

“You may have been right about my shoes,” Morgana says a while later when his bag is nearly full.

“You can’t say I didn’t warn you,” he replies, smirking at her.

“Yes, well, I couldn’t think of any other time to speak with you that wouldn’t leave Arthur pouting at being left out.” She rolls her eyes and he can’t deny that point.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

“You tried to kill me,” she says slowly and he freezes where he’s crouched on the other side of the clearing, eyes darting to hers. “Oh don’t look at me like that,” she huffs, rolling her eyes at him. “It was just a statement, not an undying declaration of hatred.”

“You could have picked a better opening,” he says dryly, standing up and stretching before going to flop down next to her.

“But your face was ever so fascinating,” she says, smirking at him. He gives her a withering glare, settling back into the grass and hoping this wasn’t some set up to murder him without any witnesses.

“So, what did you want to talk about, Morgana.”

“If Morgause hadn’t taken the curse down, if she hadn’t taken the antidote,” she pauses, staring at the sky and blinking rapidly. “Merlin, would you have let me die?”

He can hear how much it pains her to ask this, the idea that her sister would have let her die just for a chance to destroy Camelot. “I don’t know,” he tells her, sighing and avoiding her eyes. “I’ve asked myself the same thing so many times but I really don’t know. My plan hinged on Morgause agreeing. If she hadn’t, I don’t know what I would have done.”

They lay there in silence for a while, staring at the sky and listening to the wind blow through the trees.

“Yes you do,” she say quietly, a moment later. “I’m sure you would have tried your best to break the curse on your own but if it was between me or Arthur, you know what you would have done.”

He can’t find it in himself to deny it. “I’m happy she chose you,” he says, knocking his shoulder against hers.

She gives a choked laugh, the sound catching on the trees. “Yes, so I am but she still lied to me. She still tried to use me.”

“Maybe she’ll come around once you and Arthur are on the throne,” he says, not sure if he believes it possible but hoping for Morgana’s sake that it is.

Morgana lays her head on his shoulder, not saying anything in response and he knows that she feels the same doubt. They lay for a long time, just watching the sky and talking in whispers of what it will be like with Uther off of the throne. How strange it will feel to be able to do magic in the halls, in public, without fearing the pyre. How strange it will feel to be truly, truly free after spending so long hiding and without really meaning to he finds himself silently crying.

“Morgana what did you do to him?” Arthur’s voice rings through the clearing suddenly, horrified and stricken, his face blocking out the sun as he leans over Merlin.

He blinks up, throat gone dry, heart stuttering to a halt at the way Arthur looks, backlit by the sun, the blue of his eyes seeming to sear through Merlin.

“I didn’t do anything,” she mutters, and he glances over to find her furiously wiping at her face.

“What on earth is wrong with you two?” Arthur sounds so honestly baffled and he supposes they must make a strange sight, laying in the grass crying.

“It’s nothing, Arthur,” he says sitting up and rubbing at his face. “We’re just happy, that’s all.”

He thinks he sees something close to comprehension cross Arthur’s face before he scoffs at them. “I always knew you were a girl, Merlin,” he snarks stepping back, ignoring the glare that Morgana sends him.

“The fact that Merlin likes you will always remain a source of confusion for me.” She rolls her eyes, brushing her dress off and ignoring Arthur’s offended noises.

“What are you doing out here anyways?” He asks, grabbing the bag of herbs and stretching, wondering how long they’d been laying there.

Arthur groans in exasperations. “The two of you have been gone for hours. I came to make sure you hadn’t both been murdered.”

They both stare at him for a moment and then turn to stare at each other. “Oh stop that,” Arthur snaps. “I know that you’re both fine, it doesn’t mean everyone else does.”

Merlin laughs, opening his mouth to respond and freezes as the wind carries the very distant sound of a scream to them. He exchanges a glance with Arthur, the same alarm showing in his eyes as well and then the three of them are running towards the sound.

  


⚔

  


Elyan had not known what to expect when he arrived in Camelot. He’s been gone for years, more than he cares to remember, and he’s still surprised that Gwen reached out and asked him to come home.

Although, it would probably be more accurate to describe it as an order to come home and less of a request. She had promised that if he wasn’t back in Camelot as soon as possible she would hunt him down as she found time. He wishes he could have brushed that off as an empty threat but something about the words had felt far too reminiscent of their childhood and it just seemed to easier to show up and find out what was going on.

He’d been lucky to already be near Camelot, only a day’s ride out, although he’d had no intention of coming back until he’d gotten her letter.

He hadn’t known what to expect but he can safely say that the absolute chaos that he seems to have just walked into was _not_ it. He’s still right on the edge of the woods, barely at the edge of Camelot but at the edge of the tree line. Less than a mile up the road is what looks like five people all in various states of panic. There’s a sixth person on the ground and a seventh person who seems to be tied to the horse and possibly unconscious if he’s not mistaken.

He’s also decently sure that one of the people checking on the guy tied to a horse is his sister.

He walks a bit closer, none of them having noticed him yet and stops halfway towards them when he realizes that one of the guys is the prince. Prince Arthur is leaning over the guy on the ground, an oddly anxious look on his face, while some guy, who’s dressed like a servant, is crouched over the guys other side muttering something.

The guy looks up just as Elyan takes another hesitant step forward, not sure why his sister is hanging out with the prince. The guy looks up and it’s only for a moment but they make eye contact and the guys eyes are a bright, brilliant gold.

He freezes, not because of the magic, but because of the pure disbelief at what he’s seeing. There is a boy, because yes, now that he’s closer he can see it’s more a boy than man, doing magic and the prince is right there, seeming to not care!

The boy sighs and says something, causing the prince to snap around to stare at Elyan, who for his part hasn’t yet figured out how to move again.

“Elyan!” Gwen exclaims and he finally manages to tear his eyes from the sorcerer and the fucking prince of Camelot, just in time to catch her as she throws herself at him.

“Oh my god, Gwen, I’ve told you a million times, I won’t always catch you when you do that,” he mutters into her hair, holding her close. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her.

“And yet, you always do,” she says back, laughter clear in her voice. He rolls his eyes and over her shoulder he finally makes out who the other two people are — Lady Morgana and Leon. He hadn’t thought Leon would still be friends with her. Not that there was anything wrong with Leon but, well, it had been fine for the three of them to be friends as children but now, Leon is a knight and from appearances, Gwen is still a servant. The idea that they’re still actively friends baffles him.

Actually, the longer he turns this strange collection of people over in his mind the more questions he has. “Why is there an unconscious man tied to a horse?” He asks, finally settling on the most pressing question, letting her go and raising an eyebrow at her.

“We have no idea! Lancelot passed out before he could tell us,” she says, nose scrunching in annoyance, already turning to rush back over.

“I assume Lancelot is the one on the ground then,” he says dryly, following her over.

“Elyan,” Leon says, nodding as they approach. “Good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” he replies, nodding back, not that Leon notices, his eyes already back on Gwen.

“I’m going to go ahead and take this one to Gaius,” Gwen says after another moment of peering anxiously at the guy on the horse. She doesn’t wait for a reply, even though the prince is rising to give one, just takes the horse’s reins and sets off towards the castle, Lady Morgana and Leon trailing close behind her. Leon does pause after a few steps, glancing back at Arthur and waiting for a nod before continuing onward but still, the absolute lack of concern for the prince’s permission is… surprising to say the least.

He means to follow them, but he takes another glance at the boy tending to Lancelot and hesitates. The boy doesn’t look strong enough to help carry Lancelot and he’s sure the prince won’t want to do it alone. Also, he has not forgotten the gold of the boy’s eyes and he wants answers about that.

Surely the prince wasn’t so blind as to not have noticed.

He hovers for a moment, not sure if they actually realize he’s still there, the prince having crouched back down as soon as he realized that Gwen wasn’t going to wait for an answer. They’re both whispering furiously, the boy gesturing wildly with his hands, while the prince listens with tense shoulders before finally throwing his hands in the air and standing up.

“I’m telling you no, Merlin!” He exclaims, sounding irritated. “It’s too risky! You said so yourself!”

The boy mutters something else, too low for Elyan to hear and the prince tenses, hands balling into fists. Elyan takes a step forward, not sure if he should intervene, when the prince whirls towards him, eyes furious even as he smiles pleasantly.

“Elyan, lovely to see you again,” the prince says, clearly speaking through gritted teeth. “Help me carry Lancelot here to the castle would you.”

“Arthur,” the boy, Merlin, snaps. “I told you he can’t be moved, I can fix it—”

“And I said _no,_ ” the prince snarls, turning back to Merlin. “You can help once we’re back in the castle and Gaius is there to tell us if you’re doing something stupid and self sacrificing.”

“It’s not stupid!” The boy says, standing up to yell back. “Saving Lancelot’s life isn’t stupid you absolute prat!”

“No, but risking yours is,” the prince says flatly, and Elyan honestly wishes he could crawl out of his skin he’s so uncomfortable.

He’s also becoming horrible aware that Gwen seems to have gotten herself involved in some kind of mess that involves the prince and magic that the king is definitely not aware of. He’s not sure he wants to know what the actual mess is considering how many people seem to be involved.

“Elyan.” The prince motions towards Lancelot, leaning down to carefully pick up his shoulders and now that he’s moved closer he can see the blood soaking through Lancelot’s shirt, in his hair, on his hands, his face— actually he thinks it may be easier to name the places on Lancelot that are not covered in blood and he can’t help but wonder how the man is even still alive for them to argue over.

He grabs Lancelot’s feet carefully, and between the two of them they start towards the castle, Merlin hovering anxiously next to Lancelot the entire way there.

Elyan is beginning to wish he’d just taken his chances and never come back to Camelot at all. He can already feel a headache coming on.

  


⚔

  


Merlin is exhausted. A combination of not enough sleep and using too much magic because Lance couldn’t even go out for a simple patrol without ending up nearly dead. Honestly, he was becoming as bad as Arthur. Soon he wouldn’t be able to let either of them go out alone for fear of them dying.

The last twenty four hours though had just been absolutely exhausting. His conversation with Morgana had already left him drained and then the shock of finding Lance and the other injured man. Arthur had talked with Gwen’s brother, Elyan, about the magic he had seen Merlin using, which was at least one thing he hadn’t had to deal with.

Still though, Lance had been pretty badly injured and honestly, Merlin is shocked that he managed to get himself and the other man back to Camelot. His head wound had mostly stopped bleeding by the time they’d reached the city but he’d had a nasty gash on his stomach that had still been bleeding, not to mention the other various cuts and bruises. The other guy hadn’t been as badly hurt, although still just as unconscious. He’s hoping by the time he gets done taking Arthur breakfast that they’ll both have woken up.

Arthur’s slumped at the table when he walks in, looking as if he’s going to fall back asleep at any second and Merlin doesn’t feel the least bit guilty for how hard he slams the tray down. Arthur jerks upright, chair tilting precariously for a second, and he crosses his arms, smirking.

“I see you managed to get out of bed by yourself,” he says dryly, wondering if Arthur realizes his shirt is on backwards.

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur mutters, running a hand through his, already horribly messy, hair. “I don’t need your help for everything.”

“Of course, sire,” he murmurs, biting his lip at Arthur’s glare. “In that case, I’m going to go ahead and go check on Lance.”

Arthur grumbles something under his breath, waving a hand at Merlin. “Take an apple or something,” he mutters, squeezing lightly at Merlin’s wrist. “Won’t be any help to anyone if you starve to death.”

He knows he must look utterly besotted if the flush creeping over Arthur’s cheeks is any indication but he’s still not used to having Arthur be so obvious with how much he cares. He’s not sure if he’ll ever really get used to it.

“Sure, wouldn’t want to starve would I?” He says softly, leaning down to kiss him, reveling in the way Arthur instantly relaxes under him, the hand on his wrist tugging him closer. “I really do have to go,” he says regretfully, pulling back when Arthur tries to tug him into his lap.

“Tomorrow we are sleeping in.” Arthur pouts, looking up at him with pleading eyes and swollen lips. Merlin can only nod helplessly, wishing he could just drag them both back to bed right now.

He presses a kiss to Arthur’s cheek, ignoring his annoyed huff, grabs the apple and waits until he’s halfway out the door, to turn and smirk. “By the way, thought you might want to know, your shirts on backwards!”

He’s gone, halfway up the hallway, before Arthur can do more than narrow his eyes in outrage.

  


⚔

  


Lance is still asleep when Merlin gets down to Gaius’s rooms, chest rising and falling steadily. Gaius is nowhere to be seen and Merlin figures that he’s gone down to the lower town to do his rounds.

He checks all of Lance’s bandages and then stands there, hand pressed to his chest for a long moment, re-assuring himself that his friend is still alive and present. After pushing another burst of magic at Lance, just enough to hopefully let him wake up soon, he turns and heads up the stairs to his room where the other guy is located.

As luck would have it, the man is just leveraging himself up on his elbows when Merlin walks in. “Well, good to see one of you has woken up,” he says, smiling brightly at the confused look the man levels him with.

“Where am I? Who are you?”

“You’re in Camelot, specifically in my room, in the physicians chambers,” he says, ignoring the way the man’s eyes narrow, checking the bandages on his leg. “My name’s Merlin, I’m the Gaius’s apprentice.”

“I told him to drop me off in the next village,” he mutters, dropping back onto the pillow with an aggravated huff.

“Yes, well he wasn’t really in any state to be doing that, I’m surprised either of you even made it to Camelot.”

The guy blinks at him and looks around the room again. “Is he still alive?”

“Lance? Yeah, he’s fine, we got him patched up but it was a close call,” he tries to keep his voice as steady as he can, still not sure who this guy is or how exactly he ended up with Lance. “So, how did you end up tied to a horse, unconscious?”

The man snorts before sitting up slowly and smiling at Merlin. “Name’s Gwaine,” he says, leering impressively. “I saved pretty boy from getting murdered by a bunch of bandits because he was too noble to leave his companions body behind.”

He closes his eyes, breathing deeply for a moment. “I’m going to kill him,” he grits out, jaw tight. “No scratch that, I’m going to tell Gwen and let her kill him.”

Gwaine laughs again, wincing slightly when he moves his leg the wrong way. “I find myself unable to believe that but nice to know his friends aren’t all that noble and self sacrificing.”

He doesn’t mean to pause as long as he does, fidgeting guiltily when Gwaine raises a brow. “Orrrrr not I suppose…” Gwaine says slowly, eyeing him curiously. He opens his mouth to say something else but is cut off by Gwen’s voice calling out from the room below.

He leaps to his feet gratefully, ignoring Gwaine’s smirk, and rushes over to the door. “Gwen, I’m up here!”

“Merlin!” She smiles, looking up from where she’s gone to hover next to Lancelot. “Is he awake?” She asks, nodding towards the room behind him, halfway up the stairs before he can answer.

“I don’t know why you bother asking when you’re just going to come look for yourself.” He rolls his eyes, as she shoves by him, patting his shoulder consolingly as she passes.

“Ah, you must be the fearsome Gwen,” Gwaine drawls, smiling winningly at her.

Gwen pauses, hands on her hips, head cocked to the side and Merlin takes the chance to glare at Gwaine from behind her, mouthing ‘no’ and hoping he gets his point across.

He does not think it works. If anything Gwaine’s smile grows wider but— well it’s his mistake, Merlin was only trying to save him the pain of being brutally shot down.

“Merlin, stop glaring,” Gwen says, sighing and never looking away from Gwaine.

“I hate it when you do that,” he mutters, crossing his arm and leaning against the doorframe. “Why are you even here?”

“Awww, I missed you too.”

“We just saw each other yesterday,” he says laughing.

“And do you mean to say that you didn’t miss your best friend in the few hours we were apart?” She demands, turning to shoot him an incredulous look.

They hold each other's gaze for the span of a few seconds before dissolving into giggles. “I can promise I wasn’t thinking about you last night, not at all,” he says between giggles. 

“Likewise,” she rolls her eyes, straightening up and tugging at her dress. “Arthur’s looking for you.”

He stares at her, eyes narrowed. “I told him I was going to help Gaius today. I just told him that not even an hour ago.”

She rolls her eyes again, she needs to stop doing that, they’re going to get stuck like that. “He’s in a snit about some tourney happening this week that he just found out about,” she says dryly.

“The tourney that we’ve known about for a month?”

“That’s the one.”

He blinks at her, puts his hands on his hips, stares at the ceiling, looks at Gwaine who is watching them with an absolutely fascinated expression. “Why do I like him?”

“I’ve been asking you that for years, Merlin,” she says amusedly.

“His bandages need changed.” He waves a hand at Gwaine, who smiles back at him.

“I’ll change them and stay here in case Lance wakes up. Now stop stalling and go see what your prince wants,” she says, already shooing him out of the room.

“Ugh fine, I’ll just go _help_ him train shall I. As if he doesn’t have enough knights to beat up.”

“You’ll be fine, bye Merlin.”

He won’t be fine but, now that he knows that Arthur knows about his magic, all bets are off. If the prince trips a bit more during training today, well, no one will notice his eyes flashing gold since Arthur always insists on him wearing that god awful helmet.

Maybe if he does it enough Arthur will stop making him train.

  


⚔

  


Arthur does not seem to have any inclination of letting Merlin stop attending training but he does let Merlin slide into the bath with him later, the heat of the water sinking under his skin and leaving him boneless against Arthur’s chest.

They sit like that for a while, Arthur drawing lazy circles on Merlin’s skin, the temperature of the water never faltering thanks to how freely he can use his magic now.

Lancelot had woken up shortly after Merlin had finished dragging Arthur’s armor to his room and gotten down there to check on him. Gwen and Morgana, in a strange turn of events, had both been in his room giggling about something with Gwaine. Suspiciously, the giggles had stopped when he’d entered the room and then immediately started back up when he left. He has the sinking suspicion that Gwaine is somehow going to end up knowing far too much about his own personal life.

Lance had stared at him bemusedly when he’d stomped back down the stairs, out of his own room mind you, and then winced when Merlin immediately launch into a rant about not doing stupid, self sacrificing things he wasn’t there to provide back up.

His only defense had been that he had thought that Elan was still alive, otherwise he would have made a break for it.

“We should probably get out soon,” Arthur murmurs quietly against his neck, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“Hmmm, you haven’t even cleaned yourself yet though,” he responds quietly, the heat leaving him sleepy and boneless.

“Yes, I know,” Arthur says sounding amused. “My servant seems to have forgotten that it’s his job to help me with that.”

“S’not your servant’s fault that you can’t figure out how to wash yourself.” 

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised when Arthur shoves his head under the water and yet he still comes up spluttering and shocked.

The water fight that ensues afterwards would have been a nightmare to clean up without his magic and he’s very happy that he can just snap his fingers and clean it up. Not that he really needed to snap his fingers but the curious, baffled expression on Arthur’s face had been worth it.

Later when they’re laying together in bed, limbs twisted together, Merlin can’t help but wish they could stay like this forever. Stay in this strange limbo they’ve found themselves in. Where Arthur knows about his magic and still cares for him, Morgana smiles at him, Gwen knows all their secrets.

When they take over all four of them are going to be horribly, dreadfully busy and he knows that regardless of how justified the takeover is, Arthur is going to carry enough guilt for all four of them.

“Stop thinking so much,” Arthur mutters, pinching his side. “I can’t sleep.”

“Kiss me and I’ll stop,” he murmurs back, rolling over to face him.

Arthur rolls his eyes but tugs his face forward obligingly, pressing a kiss to his lips and then dramatically flings an arm over his face. “There, now sleep!”

“Prat,” he mutters, smiling fondly despite himself, flinging an arm over Arthur’s chest and curling into his side. “I don’t know why I like you.”

Arthur snorts, tangling their fingers together and dragging their hands up to his chest, leaving their hands resting directly above his heart. Merlin’s not sure if this was on purpose but either way it leaves his heart feeling too full for his body.

“Sleep Merlin,” Arthur says again, gentle and chiding, thumb tracing circles on the back of his hand.

He sighs, presses a kiss to Arthur’s shoulder and at some point, in the middle of contemplating how he should probably tell Gaius about what’s going on, he falls asleep.

  


⚔

  


Arthur just wants it noted that his day had been going so well. It had been a great day. The sun had been shining, he’d woken up to Merlin doing very interesting things with his tongue, there had been no emergencies and the tourney was only a day away. It had been a great day, with absolutely nothing awful happening.

He should have known it wouldn’t last. Something always inevitably seems to go wrong when he’s having a good day.

This time the something comes in the form of one of the visiting knights demanding the execution of the man who had saved Lancelot’s life.

He’s not really sure what happened, Merlin not having time to explain anything at all. He can only assume though that it has something to do with the blood on his hand and Gwen’s horror stricken expression as she hurries along next to Merlin.

He should have made Merlin go to training with him today and then this likely would have never happened. Now he has to go talk his father down from executing someone who, in all likelihood, helped Merlin get out of whatever trouble he’d managed to find in the hour that Arthur had left him alone.

The hall goes silent when he strides in, Merlin and Gwen only steps behind him, and he ends up meeting Morgana’s eyes first. Her is mouth drawn tight as she hovers next to his father’s shoulder. He’s not sure if she’s been genuinely trying to convince him to not execute Gwaine or if she had been stalling, waiting for him to get there. He supposes it doesn’t much matter anyway.

“Ah, Arthur, there you are,” Uther says, standing from his throne, waving off whatever Morgana’s whispered at him. “This man has attacked Sir Oswald. Sir Oswald has demanded his death as recompense and I’m inclined to allow it.”

Arthur takes a deep breath, meeting his father's eyes and then looking at Gwaine, who is being held between two guards, one foot firmly planted on the floor and the other dragging. He’d dearly like to know why Gwaine was even out of bed considering how pale he looks. Not that this stops him from shooting Arthur a cheeky grin, and mouthing _you’re welcome,_ despite the two of them never having exchanged words before.

“I see,” he says slowly, resisting the urge to look at Merlin, knowing his father would not like it if he were to look at his servant for guidance. “And have we asked why he attacked Sir Oswald?”

His father sneers, glaring at Gwaine in disgust. “I fail to see how that matters. The man attacked a knight.”

Morgana is trying to catch his eyes and he can just barely see, out of the corner of his eye, Gwen hugging the wall, slowly making her way towards Morgana. Merlin is a silent presence behind him and he has to fight down a surge of panic at the events that seem to be rapidly unfolding without his consent.

“It might have been a justified attack,” he says, measuring his words. He meets Morgana’s eyes and tries to not feel betrayed by the vicious glee lighting up her face when all he can feel is dread.

“There cannot be a —”

“Arthur,” Morgana says loudly, cutting Uther off and drawing all eyes to her. “We do it now.” Her tone leaves no room for argument and yet—

“Now?” He asks plaintively, absently registering Leon moving forward into his line of vision. “Over this?”

“There won’t be a better time,” she says, ignoring the glare that Uther is leveling on the both of them.

He sighs, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose and hoping the headache will hold off until much later. Glances over his shoulder at Merlin, it doesn’t much matter what his father thinks anymore he supposes and he needs—

—Needs that. Needs Merlin staring at him with his absolute, unwavering trust that never seems to falter no matter how many times Arthur fucks up.

“Alright,” he says softly, holding Merlin’s gaze for another moment, before squaring his shoulders and turning back to the room. It’s remained oddly silent, even his father quiet as he stares between the two of them.

Or at least, he thinks his father is being quiet until he belatedly realizes that his father’s mouth is opening and closing with no sound coming out. It explains the viciously pleased look on Morgana’s face and the resigned amusement that he can see Gwen watching Morgana with.

“Alright,” he says again, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Leon, I do hope we haven’t sprung this on you too early.”

“No sire,” Leon nods at the guard at the door who disappears into the hall, presumably to alert the rest of the knights and guards that Leon’s spoken with already. “Would you like me to…?” He trails off delicately, nodding at the king who has drawn his sword and is glaring around the room, clearly searching for whoever has put the silencing spell on him, eyes not once flickering towards Morgana.

“Yes, Sir Leon,” he says heavily, the outrage that’s soon to follow already haunting him. “Morgana, if you could do something about his sword,” he calls, not wishing to see Leon hurt by his own father when he has a sorcerer and a warlock perfectly capable of keeping him safe.

His father turns towards him, eyes outraged, mouth still soundlessly moving and then freezes, face gone pale, as the sword crumbles into dust. He nearly sighs again at how bloody dramatic Morgana is. She couldn’t have just summoned the sword or… or done anything else. He’s not sure what all magic can do but he’s sure there must have been another option that wasn’t turning the sword into dust.

Leon motions two guards forward as soon as the sword crumbles, smiling apologetically at Uther even as the guards firmly grab hold of both his arms. The whispering of the court has started up in earnest now, although no one has stepped forward or said anything yet.

Merlin has moved forward to stand next to his side, arm pressing lightly against his own, the touch helping to ground him a way nothing else would be able to at this moment. “Can’t you do something about the blood on your hand,” he mutters quietly, grimacing when he realizes that some of it has gotten on his hand as well.

Merlin rolls his eyes but does as he asks and he can feel the exact moment that his father notices the gold of Merlin’s eyes, feels the exact moment his father realizes what exactly is happening.

The rage on his face is going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

Unless of course they manage to reconcile after this, something that Arthur has to admit he does not find likely.

The rage on his face at seeing Merlin calmly magic away the blood on his hand is nothing compared to the utter fury that seems to tear its way through him when Morgana gives a bright laugh, the sound clinging to the windows, and lowers herself onto the throne. She throws Arthur a cheeky grin and he resists the urge to sigh again.

He really had been having such a nice day and now he gets to deal with this. He catches Leon eye, who nods once and spares a thought to how awfully disappointed Lancelot will be at having missed this, before heading for the throne, Merlin not once leaving his side.

Gratifyingly, Morgana does make a half aborted movement to vacate the throne once he reaches it, but he waves her back down and moves to stand on the left, Gwen already on her right. Merlin takes his place on Arthur’s left and he places a hand on the throne arm, Morgana placing her hand on top of his.

“People of Camelot, let it be known that today, I, Arthur Pendragon, am declaring myself King of Camelot in light of my father’s crimes against the kingdom.” The room has gone eerily silent, his father is still glaring up at them, eyes fixed on their hands, something close to panic crawling across his features.

“People of Camelot,” Morgana says, a barely there tremble hidden under her words. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Gwen shuffle closer, fingers just barely pressed to Morgana’s hand, reminiscent of the way Merlin’s arm is still pressed to Arthur’s. “Let it be known that today, I, Morgana of House Gorlois, am declaring myself Queen of Camelot in light of Uther Pendragon’s crimes against the kingdom.” The tremble is gone from her voice and she meets Uther’s eyes evenly, smiling victoriously, even as she rubs soothing circles on the back of Arthur’s hand, mindful of how much he hates the necessity of this.

For a long, awful moment there is nothing but silence, the weight of the court’s stares heavy and oppressing, and then before Arthur can do more than tense in anticipation of outrage, Leon has dropped to one knee, and raised his voice proclaiming, “Long live the King! Long live the Queen!”

He repeats this alone only twice before the rest of the knights, who had filed into the room shortly before Arthur’s declaration, also fall to their knees, their voices joining Leon’s. The guards that are present follow next, the ones holding Gwaine lowering him to the floor, before joining their brothers.

The servants follow next, shuffling forward, eyes fixed not on him or Morgana, but on Gwen and Merlin, steady pillars at their side. Their voices join the rest, filling the room with their enthusiasm.

The people of the court take the longest, their eyes settling on the ones already on their knees, on the former king, on Arthur and Morgana, silent and straight backed. Their eyes linger longest on the servants bracketing them in. The servants who do not kneel but who stand steady, fingers pressed to the new Queen’s hand, arm pressed firmly against the new King’s arm.

But after another tense moment, even the courtiers began to kneel, their voices slowly joining the rest. Once half of the court has kneeled, the rest all seem to go down at once, although he’s sure it is less because they are comfortable with what’s occurred and more because they do not want to be the odd one out in a room full of people who have decided to support the new age.

Finally, once the entire room has kneeled, save the guards who hold his father still, he links his fingers with Morgana’s, who rises from her seat, and together they raise their hands. Silence falls, eyes steady on them.

They lower their hands, although he does not let go, needing all the support he can get and knowing the people will view this not as him needing support, but as them presenting a united front. He meets his father’s eyes again, stomach churning uneasily at how his father’s face is no longer rage filled, nothing left behind but a cold panic that seems to have made its home on his face.

“Uther Pendragon you are charged with crimes against the kingdom. These crimes are, while claiming falsehoods, willful and knowing murder of those practicing magic under the pretense of protecting the kingdom. Do you deny these crimes?”

Morgana casually waves a hand, presumably lifting the silencing spell from his father, and while he knows her eyes flashed gold, judging by the shocked gasps that echo around the room, his father does not even flinch, eyes still focused on their clasped hands.

“Uther Pendragon,” Morgana says after the silence has dragged on for too long, his father silent and panicked. “Do you deny these crimes?”

His father blinks up at her and then looks once again at their hands, something about their clasped hands bringing him an irrational amount of panic.

“You cannot marry,” his father says once, so quiet he thinks he must have misheard. “You _cannot_ marry!” His father says again, nearly screaming the words, straining against the guards holds.

The four of them stare back, shocked and quiet, unsure where he’s drawn this assumption from. Their silence though only seems to serve as confirmation for whatever scenario his father has blown out of proportion in his mind.

“You must not marry,” his father repeats, still straining against the guards, eyes fixed beseechingly on Morgana, as if he will find any sympathy from her.

She raises a single incredulous eyebrow and exchanges a baffled look with him, before turning back to Uther. “I’m sorry that you find the thought of me as Queen so distasteful—”

“YOU CANNOT MARRY!” Uther shouts, succeeding in tearing one of his arms from the guard and there is something cold slipping down Arthur’s spine, a half remembered memory, pressed into the creases of his spine and —

His grip on Morgana’s hand must tighten, because she hisses quietly, turning to look at him. Merlin’s eyes are heavy on the side of the face and he wonders if he’s come to the same conclusion. The most illogical conclusion. A conclusion that holds so many implications his head hurts without even contemplating them.

He wants to sit down on the floor and cry. Wants to grab Merlin’s hand and go to his room and never come out, face buried in Merlin’s neck until the world just stops bothering him. He wants to do anything other than what he knows he has to.

If he were still only a prince perhaps he would storm out and never confront the awful truth staring back at him. A truth that seems all too believable when he remembers the way his father had looked up at him from the end of Arthur’s own sword and lied to his face.

The room is silent and he straightens his shoulders, let’s go of Morgana’s hand, briefly presses his arm harder against Merlin’s and then walks down the stairs to stare at his father face to face.

His father meets his eyes, panic still running rampant over his face, seemingly convinced that the only reason Arthur and Morgana would rule together is if they planned on marrying. Which, he supposes, goes to show how little his father understands them.

He holds his father's eyes for a moment, counts his breaths, and when he’s sure he can speak without his voice trembling, he tilts his chin up and confidently says, “She’s my sister. Isn’t she?”

The way Uther sways backwards away from him as if struck would have been answer enough. The way he seems to crumple in on himself, all the fight gone from him, would have been answer enough.

But he clearly hadn’t said the words as quietly as he had meant to because in the next moment Morgana has shoved her way past him and punched Uther in the face, hair sparking in a way he’s decently sure it shouldn’t be doing.

The court is still eerily silent, sunlight streaming through the windows, leaving the whole of them sun soaked and golden, starkly at odds with the tension suddenly ricocheting around the room.

“You fucking bastard,” she hisses, voice venomous in a way he has _never _heard. “If Arthur wasn’t standing right there I would murder you were you lay.” Her hands are shaking, fists balled tight and still they shake. From grief or rage or a combination of both he’s not sure.__

__

He’s still warily eyeing her hair, wondering what he should do when Gwen walks past him, paying no attention to the literal sparks flying off of Morgana, and very calmly slips her hand into Morgana’s.

__

“Come my lady,” she says softly, already tugging Morgana towards the doors, heedless of all the people watching them. “Let’s take a walk and tell the townspeople the good news.”

__

The doors close behind them and all eyes turn back to him. He would be mad that she’d left him here alone if he wasn’t sure she’d have actually murdered Uther if left in the same room as him for much longer.

__

“Leon, have my father confined to his rooms, guards posted at his doors and under his windows at all time until further notice.” Leon nods, his father doesn’t move, still staring up at the ceiling, a vacant look on his face that Arthur has never seen before. “The council will meet first thing in the morning after breakfast,” he says, pauses until he sees the majority of the council members nod in agreement. “That’s all for now, you’re all dismissed. Leon, once you’re done assigning guards to my father please return here.”

__

He stares at the wall until the room has emptied of everyone except for himself, Merlin and Gwaine. Doesn’t move a muscle until the doors have shut, the guards nodding respectfully at the both of them.

__

The doors shut and he sighs, pressing a hand to his face. “Why are you still here?” He asks, the words muffled.

__

Gwaine laughs, “Can’t really walk can I?”

__

He hears Merlin sigh from behind him, brushing a hand down his back as he passes to check on Gwaine. There’s silence for a moment as Merlin checks Gwaine’s bandages and then—

__

“I cannot believe I was the cause of an honest to god coup,” Gwaine says delightedly, slapping a hand on the floor. Arthur groans in response, moving back up the steps to drop into the throne.

__

From what he’s gathered, Gwaine has already made fast friends with both Gwen and Morgana, as well as supposedly stepped in to help Merlin today. He has this sinking feeling that he won’t be getting rid of him any time soon.

__

“You were just an excuse to do it,” Merlin says laughing. “We were already planning it, trust me, you had nothing to do with it.”

__

“Nah, that still makes me the cause,” Gwaine says smugly, wincing as Merlin tugs at the bandages. “The bards will list me as the cause, and really that’s all that matters.”

__

“Here, up you go, let’s move you to that step and when Leon gets back we’ll move you back to the bed.”

__

Silence, shuffling, Arthur’s eyes have long since closed, trusting Merlin to not let anything suddenly sneak up on him.

__

“Fancy that though,” Gwaine says quietly a moment later. “A prince, who was already in line to be king, planning a coup with two servants and the king’s ward. Not something you see everyday, that’s for sure.”

__

“Will you be staying in Camelot after you’re healed?” Merlin asks.

__

Gwaine hums quietly, the sound of fingers tapping on stone reaching Arthur’s ears. “I might stay for a while yeah, see what other chaos the four of you manage to cause.”

__

Merlin protests weakly, subsiding into annoyed grumbles at Gwaine’s resulting laughter. Arthur let’s it all wash over him, Merlin’s laughter sinking under his skin and reminding him of why what they did was necessary and just.

__

Gwaine and Merlin are still quietly talking and laughing, when the doors slam open and Arthur jolts out of his seat, hand on his sword before his eyes even finish focusing.

__

When his eyes finally do focus he sighs in exasperation and slumps back down into his seat. Elyan and Lancelot are both walking through the doors, Lancelot’s arm slung over Elyan’s shoulder as he struggles to walk.

__

“I cannot believe that you all did it without me!” Lancelot exclaims, the words echoing around the room. “The one time I end up being stuck in Gaius’s chambers and you all go off and take over without me!”

__

Arthur sighs, staring at the ceiling for patience and then looking back down to find Lancelot glaring at all of them while Elyan just looks politely confused, the expression eerily similar to the one Guinevere wears when she doesn’t want to say what she’s thinking.

__

Merlin looks over his shoulder, a grin on his face that seems to grow wider when he catches Arthur’s eye and he smiles back, the joy in Merlin’s smile making it all worth it.

__

“This is all your fault!” Lancelot exclaims, pointing at Gwaine and scowling. Arthur wonders if Gaius gave him something for the pain, he’s not usually quite this… loud.

__

Gwaine cocks his head, and Arthur can only imagine the look on his face, the tone of voice already more than he ever wanted to hear. “Yeah pretty boy, it was all my fault. So tell me, what are you going to do about it?”

__

Lancelot goes an impressive shade of red, mouth opening comically wide and Gwaine tips his head back, laughter ringing through the room.

__

Arthur watches Merlin laugh, and thinks of the girl who had already been a sister to him in everything but blood, and thinks they’re all finally on the right track.

__

No more secrets, this was going to be a kingdom built on love and happiness and laughter so bright that Arthur can feel it in his bones. No more secrets, only the hope that he sees every time Merlin looks at him and whispers _you will be the best King that Camelot has ever had, the best King that Albion could ever ask for._

__

He thinks he can almost feel himself starting to believe that.

_  
_

__

⚔

__

__  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright!! I know I’ve said this before, but for real this time, the next chapter should also be that last one!!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not get to Gaius's reaction in this, there was just nowhere for it to fit, but it went something like this. 
> 
> Gaius: Merlin [cue the eyebrow of doom] I heard some most interesting news while I was in the lower town.   
> Merlin: [sweating nervously]  
> Gaius:   
> Merlin:  
> Gaius:  
> Merlin: I'M SORRY  
> Gaius: YOU OVERTHREW THE KING MERLIN SORRY DOESN'T CUT IT HOW COULD YOU  
> Merlin: [apolgizes a lot for not telling Gaius about what they were planning]  
> Gaius: [stays mad cause he's the one who mainly has to deal with Uther and he is _not_ pleased]
> 
> anyways, on to the story! <3

Gwen likes to believe that she’s a reasonable person. She really truly believes this. She tries her best to not be overly suspicious of people. And honestly, out of all four of them, she likes to think that she’s the most reasonable.

She is however the only one who seems to think that this has all gone just a bit too easily. They’ve all said that she’s just being paranoid and she _knows_ that Merlin is lying. She knows that he’s just as worried but he’d just smiled tightly and agreed with Arthur. Morgana had stared out the window with distant eyes, missing someone, and told her it would be fine. And while that was not a dismissal it still did not help that she was sure something was going to go wrong.

Arthur and Morgana are minutes away from their coronation, Merlin beaming next to her, the both of them standing on the dais, slightly behind the thrones. Everything has gone so, suspiciously well and as happy as she is, as much as she wants to do nothing but delight in Morgana’s happiness, she cannot stop her skin from prickling in unease.

She keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop and it’s making her so horribly nervous that it hasn’t yet.

Her fears are proven true when Merlin suddenly stiffens next to her, eyes leaving Arthur for the first time all morning and instead narrowing into a glare directed at the back of the room. She follows his gaze, heart thumping painfully in her chest, and sucks in a sharp breath at the familiar blonde hair at the very back of the crowd.

“She didn’t even disguise herself,” she whispers, darting a glance at Morgana and Arthur, both of whom are now staring at them with poorly concealed concern. Likely tipped off by the fact that Merlin’s actually found the willpower to look away from Arthur.

“Maybe she’s only come to watch,” Merlin whispers back, not sounding near as sure of himself as she would like him to.

There is a good chance he may be right. She hasn’t yet done anything, merely stood there, back pressed to the wall, staring at the ceremony with a strange look on her face that Gwen can’t place.

“I’m going to talk to her,” she whispers, spinning and disappearing into the back stairwell before Merlin can do more than hiss ‘no’ and grasp uselessly for her. He doesn’t follow her thankfully, likely, rightfully assuming that his absence from the dais will ‘cause much more of a stir than her own.

She slips through the corridors as fast as she can, pausing at the doors to nod at the guards who are staring at with her open curiosity, clearly baffled as to what could have drawn her away from the dais.

Morgause is still pressed to the back wall and barely glances at her when she places herself next to her.

“I suppose you’ve come to tell me to leave,” Morgause says lowly in a bitter soaked tone.

“I’ve come to ask why you’re here,” she replies, meeting Merlin’s eyes from across the room and shaking her head slowly. She can almost see his fingers twitching from here, ready to come to her defense even if it means disrupting the coronation. Something she would very much like to prevent.

“My sister is being crowned Queen of Camelot,” Morgause mutters, still bitter. “Why would I not be here?”

She says nothing else and so Gwen stays silent as well, crossing her fingers and hopes that she tells the truth.

“I see you’ve wormed your way back into her good graces,” Morgause says after a while, right as Arthur finishes his vows.

“I wouldn’t have left them to begin with if you hadn’t lied to her,” she snaps, the topic still making her stomach twist uncomfortably.

“It was for her own good.”

Gwen laughs, a bit too loudly based on the stares she gets. “You’re full of it,” she hisses, wondering what her father would think if he could hear her now. “It was done only for yourself, don’t bother lying to me about it.”

Morgause side eyes her curiously, that damnable smirk never leaving her face. “I do not recall you being quite this angry last time I saw you.”

“Last time you saw me you hadn’t tried to steal away my dearest friend.” She wonders if anyone else can see how tense Morgana’s shoulders are.

“You do us all a disservice pretending to care about her,” Morgause says, voice dark. “I know that you aim to marry Arthur. High ambitions for a girl like yourself and they would be—”

Gwen doesn’t mean to laugh but the notion is so absurd that she has to turn her back on Morgause to laugh in her hands, shoulders shaking from the force of her mirth. Is that truly what people think of her? They are so close and yet so far from the truth.

“Even if I did want to marry Arthur…” she has to stop speaking, laughter overwhelming her again. Morgause is glaring at her, looking thoroughly put out and Gwen can’t help but wonder why she hasn’t yet tried to harm her. She finally gathers herself together and rests back against the wall, pressing a hand to her stomach where she’s given herself cramps. “Even if I did want to marry him, which I do not, I do not have the patience for Arthur. But even if I did, it wouldn’t matter seeing how as he and Merlin are so utterly besotted with each they wouldn’t notice someone flirting with them no matter who it was.”

She nearly laughs again at the gobsmacked look on Morgause’s face.

“Why are you really here?” She asks, once it seems clear that Morgause has no intention of saying anything else.

Morgause doesn’t answer, staring as Geoffrey sets the crown on Morgana’s head, and Gwen presses a hand to her chest, heart overflowing with pride. Morgana and Arthur both turn to face the crowd and she can see the exact moment that Morgana finds her in the crowd, and the exact moment she realizes who she’s standing next to.

She smiles as reassuringly as she can, hoping that Morgana won’t cause a panic when there isn’t yet a need for one. When she next glances at Morgause she finds those calculating eyes back on her.

“I came because she is my sister,” Morgause says slowly, words measured in a way that reminds Gwen of Morgana at her most guarded. “I wished to see for myself that she was truly taking her place on the throne.”

Gwen considers this for a moment, catalogs all the way that Morgause reminds her of Morgana. Reminds her of Morgana when she first met her, stiff and held together by nothing but her own anger. “You truly care about her then?” She asks softly, knowing the answer but needing to know if Morgause will admit to it.

She purses her lips and glances at Morgana again, not having looked directly at her since they both turned to face the crowd. “She is my sister,” she says again as if this should magically explain everything. “Of course I care about her.”

“She’ll be pleased to hear that,” she murmurs, slowly reaching out to hook her arm through Morgause’s. “You’ll be joining us for dinner tonight, it seems there is yet more talking to do.”

Morgause for her part merely blinks down at her in bemusement, fingers twitching as if she wishes to swat Gwen away. But she nods her head towards the dais, where Morgana and Arthur have taken the throne, both of them doing a terrible job of pretending to not watch her. Nods her head towards the dais and Morgause looks up and meets Morgana’s hopeful gaze.

“Yes,” she sighs, sounding put out about the whole thing. “I suppose there is.”

Gwen can’t wait to tell Merlin all about how she solved this by merely taking the time to talk to Morgause. No violent, deadly force (or poison) needed. She’ll make sure to never let him forget it either.

This is of course, provided the whole dinner doesn’t spectacularly blow up in their faces.

  


⚔

  


Arthur likes to think that he’s observant, despite what Merlin and Morgana like to imply. He had after all figured out that Merlin had magic with absolutely no help at all. Had he handled it the way he should have? According to Lancelot (and everyone else), he had not but he had figured it out.

So yes, Arthur likes to think that he’s decently observant. Which is why, when two weeks after their coronation, his Uncle Agravaine shows up, he almost immediately notices Merlin, Guinevere and Morgause huddling together far more often than he’s comfortable with.

If it had just been Merlin and Guinevere constantly huddled together whispering he would have thought nothing of it. They were always whispering together, he didn’t expect that to stop anytime soon. For Morgause to be involved though, well that set off alarm bells.

Merlin had very steadfastly ignored Morgause ever since the screaming match masquerading as a dinner had happened. Guinevere talked to her a good bit, whether that was for Morgana’s sake or some other reason he wasn’t quite sure, but Guinevere had been, up until now, the only person besides Morgana who could speak to Morgause without getting glared out.

The point being, he’s observant. He knows that Merlin doesn’t like Agravaine, although he won’t say why. He knows that Guinevere does not like Agravaine, which is mildly baffling considering she seems to have befriended Morgause of all people. And now it seems as if the three of them are bonding over this dislike of his uncle.

“They’re going to keep doing that until they either run him off or you send him away,” Morgana says smugly, settling down next to him at the table.

“Yes,” he mutters, taking another drink of his wine. “I’ve rather gathered that. What I don’t understand is why.”

She’s quiet for a moment, watching the three chaotic gremlins snicker into their hands as they smirk in Agravaine’s direction. His uncle seems to be trying to ignore them but based off the dull, red flush on his cheeks, Arthur would wager he’s not being too successful.

“Do you really want to know why?” Morgana asks quietly after another moment. “We haven’t said anything because he’s your uncle and he hasn’t hurt anyone.” The unspoken ‘yet’ at the end of the sentence is too loud for him to ignore.

He wants to snap at her and demand she take it back, demand that she cease speaking ill of his family. He wants to do this but he doesn’t, his father’s betrayed gaze still too fresh in the back of his mind, a painful reminder that his family seems to have a habit of hurting others to make up for the hurt they’ve experienced. He would like to say that Morgana and himself are exceptions to this rule but he knows they’re not. They’ve just found people who are willing to forgive them when they inevitably fuck up.

Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say they’ve learned the benefits of apologizing when they do inevitably fuck up. Something that his father never seemed to learn how to do.

“Yes,” he says quietly, grief preemptively gripping his heart. “I need to know.”

“He means to get your ear and turn you against us,” she says softly, eyes steady on his face. “He doesn’t want your reign to succeed.”

“How do you know this?”

“He went to Morgause, tried to turn her against me,” there’s venom in her voice. “He believed that she would turn on me for a chance to bring you down as well.”

“I take it he was wrong?”

“Of course. Obviously he doesn’t know that yet, she let him believe what he wanted to. But she came and told me afterwards.”

He supposes that the only saving grace to this, is now there are no more family members left to betray him. Not unless he dares to think that Morgana will later on but he can’t even begin to fathom a reason why she would do so when she is on the throne, their father locked away in his rooms like an errant child.

“And why did none of you tell me about this immediately?” He asks heavily, glaring at Merlin, who looks up immediately as if sensing Arthur’s annoyance.

“We were going to threaten him into being loyal to you,” she says, shrugging casually.

Merlin appears next to him while he’s still staring at her, trying to decide what exactly she meant by ‘threaten’.

“Merlin,” he holds up a finger before his obnoxious lover can say anything. “Give me one good reason to not throw you in the stocks.”

Merlin shrugs looking extremely unconcerned. “I’ll magic my way out. Also, you’re still obnoxiously insistent on the whole ‘make-merlin-a-king- thing and king’s don’t go to the stocks.” He shrugs again and raises an eyebrow at Morgana. “I take it you told him about Aggravating?”

It would be bad to be seen burying his face in his hands wouldn’t it? By the gods how he would like to though. Surely anyone would do so if faced with situations like this on a daily basis. “His name is Agravaine,” he says tightly, the shit eating grin on Merlin’s face all the reply he needs.

“Oh I know,” Merlin chirps, smiling wider at the glare he receives. “But if I’m going to be a king then I can call people whatever I want.”

Morgana laughs and he snaps his head over to glare at her. “Do not,” he warns, pointing a finger at her.

“Ah, but brother dear, Merlin makes such a good point. I am Queen, that means I can call people whatever I want.”

There’s a sudden commotion from the end of the table and he knows before he looks, he just knows that it is somehow going to involve his Uncle.

Sure enough, Guinevere, the girl who hasn’t spilled anything in at least five years, Guinevere, the one he thought he could count on to be reasonable, has somehow, magically, managed to spill an entire pitcher of wine all over his Uncle. On a second glance, going by the smirk on Morgause’s face, it may have actually been a magical accident. But Morgause seems to constantly be smirking and Guinevere is far less rule abiding than she used to be, so really he supposes that either option could be accurate.

“I believe I’ll retire for the night,” he says after a moment, looking away from where his Uncle is trying to catch his eyes. “Come along Merlin,” he snaps, walking faster when he notices Morgause walking towards his Uncle.

Merlin snickers but follows behind and Arthur resolutely pretends to not hear his Uncle calling his name. He’ll deal with it in the morning.

There’s a crash and the unmistakable sound of Morgana laughing. First thing in the morning he thinks, glancing at Merlin’s laughing face. For now, he has a servant to kiss senseless.

  


⚔

  


Gwen is walking down the hallways, laundry basket on her hip as she hums to herself, when Morgause appears, seemingly out of thin air, and starts walking with her.

“I have yet to understand why you still do servant work,” Morgause says, wrinkling her nose at the laundry basket.

“Because,” she says as patiently as she can manage. “As I’ve told you before, I am still a servant.”

“In name only,” she scoffs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Do they not understand that?”

“It doesn’t matter what they understand,” she sighs. At this point she rather wishes Arthur and Morgana would hurry up and finish arguing about when, not if, when to announce that her and Merlin were also to be crowned. It would save her the trouble of having this conversation with Morgause every single day. “I’m still a servant and I’m not going to shirk my duties just because of something that hasn’t happened yet.”

“They’ve tried to stop you haven’t they?” She asks as if she doesn’t know the answer. As if she isn’t the reason that the other servants started trying to stop her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Merlin today?” She had seen Merlin not even an hour ago and he had looked terribly resigned to another lesson. She’s not quite sure if he actually learns anything from these lessons or if the two of them just spend the day beating each other up.

Morgause laughs, the sound still more derisive than truly happy. “He can wait. It’s good for him to interact with magic users that don’t hold him in awe.”

“I don’t believe he's ever worried about that with you,” she says dryly, smiling at Shelly and depositing the laundry basket on the table with the rest.

“What imagined chore are you off to now?” Morgause asks, blocking the doorway and raising an eyebrow when Gwen tries to move past.

“Does it matter?” She huffs, setting her hands on her hips and glaring. It’s times like this that she nearly regrets convincing the others to give Morgause a chance.

“Yes,” she pauses, staring at Gwen with narrowed eyes for a moment as she seems to consider something. “We have a problem.”

She has the distinct impression that this is what her life would have been like if Merlin had told her about his magic from the start. She has yet to decide whether or not she would have enjoyed that. “We?”

Morgause purses her lips, glares at Shelly and jerks her head towards the hallway. “Agravaine is unconscious in Morgana’s room, “ she says once they’re out of earshot of the laundry room.

Gwen freezes, staring in disbelief. “I thought he’d stopped being a problem?” Arthur and Morgana had lectured Agravaine in front of the council not even five days ago.

“Pendragon’s threats of banishment did not seem to sink in,” she says flatly, gesturing for Gwen to keep walking.

“What did he do?”

“I found him attempting to put a mandrake root under her bed, as if I wouldn’t have noticed the effects immediately,” she scoffs.

Gwen’s blood freezes, Morgana’s voice as she explained what mandrake root had done to Uther floating through her head. “And what exactly do you need my help for?” She asks, furious that he had dared to try and hurt Morgana. But what could she do that Morgause couldn’t?

“Morgana is….occupied,” Gwen narrows her eyes, Morgana should be with Arthur and the council right now. “Pendragon is at the council and I don’t like Merlin.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You’re going to decide what we do with him so that I can blame it on you when Pendragon finds out and throws a fit.”

“Well first,” she says slowly, resisting the urge to sigh. “We’re going to need to find Gwaine.”

Morgause pauses, turning to blink at her. “Whatever for?”

“To cause a distraction while we get to the battlements.”

  


⚔

  


Leon would like to say that he’s surprised at the scene he finds when he walks out onto the battlements. He had originally come up here to think but, now it looks as if he’s going to have to stop Gwen and Morgause from murdering Arthur’s uncle.

Gwen at least looks appropriately guilty. Morgause merely looks as if she’s contemplating pushing Agravaine off the ledge before Leon can intervene.

“What do you two think you’re doing?” He asks, gripping his sword and eyeing Morgause warily. He still doesn’t like that she’s stayed in Camelot. This right here is just further proof that she’s an awful influence on both Morgana and Gwen.

“He tried to hurt Morgana,” Gwen says, lips pursed in a way that means arguing will be useless. Of course he had. Of course he would try to hurt the one person Gwen would literally murder for.

“You cannot murder him just because he tried to hurt Lady Morgana,” he says slowly, absently wondering if they’d put Agravaine under a silencing spell. It wasn’t like him to be quiet for this long. But perhaps his self preservation instincts had (wisely) kicked in.

“She wasn’t going to murder him,” Morgause says derisively, smirking at him. “We were only impressing upon him the many reasons why he will be leaving Camelot tomorrow.”

Perhaps if it had been Arthur or Merlin that Agravaine had tried to hurt he would believe that. But if he tried to hurt Morgana, well he’s not sure he can find it himself to believe that at all. “Gwen?” He tries, giving her the benefit of the doubt.

She hesitates, chewing on her lip as she glances between him and Morgause. “Yes,” she says finally, hands twisted in her dress. “That’s all we were doing.”

He knows she’s lying but he supposes that will have to do. “Well if that’s all—” he says, meeting Agravaine’s outraged face. “—I suppose I’ll walk with you to find Arthur so that we can tell him about what Lord Agravaine has done.”

Morgause glares at him and he stares back evenly. She is not the most dangerous person he’s ever had to face and he will not give her the satisfaction of intimidating him. “Go on, I’ll escort Lord Agravaine.” He steps aside, gesturing towards the door.

Morgause sniffs imperiously and stalks through the door, heels hitting the stone sharply. Gwen grimaces and pauses when she reaches him.

“Leon…” she hesitates, biting her lip and shooting a venomous glare over her shoulder. “I’m not sorry,” she says flatly, meeting his eyes, hesitation melting away.

“I know. That doesn’t change that this was foolish,” he tells her gently, not wishing to be on the receiving end of her temper but knowing that she needs to hear this. “You cannot go around breaking the law to protect her. If anything, now that she’s queen, you should go directly to her or to Arthur and let them handle it.”

He’s not sure if any of the words truly sink in as she stares at him, mouth set in an uncompromising line. He thinks this, more than anything else, will be what takes them the longest to overcome. The hidden effects of having lived for so long under Uther’s reign. Because he knows that if he had come across this exact scene while Uther still sat on the throne, he would have walked away and made sure there were no other witnesses hiding on the stairs. He does not know when his loyalties shifted so completely. He can only be thankful that soon it will cease to be an issue.

She nods shortly after another moment of staring at him and moves through the door.

“After you my lord,” he says shortly, staring at Agravaine expectantly. He hasn’t tried to run but Leon feels that has less to do with honor and more to do with the fact that there is nowhere to run. Not unless he wishes to fling himself from the battlements willingly.

“Sir Leon, surely you can see—” he starts, hands held up in supplication.

“Now Lord Agravaine,” he says pleasantly, drawing his sword and pointing it at him.

Agravaine gulps, hand twitching as if he’s genuinely about to reach for his own sword. Thankfully he does not embarrass himself in such a way, instead he draws himself up, gracing Leon with an imperious look and starts down the stairs.

On the way to Arthur’s rooms, Leon finds himself thinking of the conversation with Lady Morgana he had just come from.

_‘She loves you,’_ Morgana had said, voice terrifyingly gentle. _‘She loves you so much.’_

_‘She loves you more my lady,’_ he had told her, furiously squashing the bubble of hope that had threatened to overwhelm him. _‘She’s loved you more since the day she met you.’_

They hadn’t resolved anything. Morgana was insistent that there must be some solution. Had seemed so terribly sure that loving both of them was going to make Gwen miserable in a way neither of them could bear and he—

—he wishes that he didn’t believe her. But even in the short month that Arthur and Morgana have been on the throne he’s watched Gwen become more and more agitated. She’s still unfailingly gentle with Morgana, her and Merlin constantly standing against the wall during council meetings, faces shining with pride. But she speaks less to both him and Morgana, for all that she is gentle she speaks less. She spends more time with Morgause and Merlin these days and he knows that Morgana feels the same sting of helplessness that he does.

Gwen seems fine at a glance, so much so that he’s sure no one but himself and Morgana have even noticed the shift. But her temper has never been shorter and despite what he’d thought earlier, it was not like her to accept murder as the solution so easily. He would dearly love to place all the blame on Morgause’s shoulders, and he does truly believe she is to blame in part, but he also believes Morgana. Gwen is caught between loving the two of them, unwilling to choose and he, he could be the bigger person and step back.

He could but he doesn’t believe he can find it in himself to do so now that Morgana has reignited the hope that he thought he’d buried so long ago. _‘We’ll find a way,’_ Morgana had said furiously, pacing the room and glaring out the window. _‘There must be some way for all of us to be happy. We’ll find a way.’_

He doesn’t know if he believes her yet but for Gwen’s sake, he hopes she’s right and he hopes that she finds a way fast.

  


⚔

  


Leon is glaring at Morgause. Arthur can’t help but think that out of all the things currently happening, that must be the most worrying thing. Arthur has never seen Leon so openly dislike someone as much he dislikes Morgana’s sister.

Which isn’t to say that Arthur doesn’t share the sentiment, but he does have the good sense to not glare at the woman when Morgana is _right_ there.

He lowers himself into the chair at his desk, folding his hands under his chin as he takes them all in. Leon is standing in front of the doors glaring at Morgause. Morgana is leaning against the dining table glaring at Leon. Gwen, Merlin and Morgause are all huddled near the window glaring at his Uncle. Gwaine is happily humming under his breath as he eats an apple, feet on the table, completely unconcerned with the entire thing and Arthur can’t decide if he hates him for it or is thankful that at least one person in this room is not (currently) being a problem.

“Guinevere,” he’ll start with, what is hopefully, the easiest one. “You understand that Morgana and I plan on making you Queen as well do you not?”

She nods sharply, not bothering to look at him. He sometimes truly misses the day when she at least pretended to care about his opinion or his authority. It’s almost like a slap in the face every time she refuses to give him even the barest amount of her attention. “And you do understand that as Queen, you cannot go around murdering everyone who threatens Morgana?”

He glares at them all as he says this. It feels like a lost cause he must admit but by the gods he would do his best to press this fact into their brains until it stuck. Just because he and Morgana were on the throne did not mean that Gwen and Merlin could go about breaking every law that they wished to break. Even once they were also on the throne, it still did not mean that they could just disregard the law when they pleased. He hadn’t thought that he would have to explain this to them!

“I don’t want it,” Gwen snaps suddenly, voice wavering and he sits up straight, eyeing her warily. “I didn’t ask for a crown, I only wanted to keep Morgana safe and if a crown interferes with that then I don’t want it.”

That was not what he meant for her to take from that at all but before he can say so he catches sight of Morgana’s face and feels his voice freeze in his throat. He wouldn’t be able to identify the look on Morgana’s face if there was a sword to his throat. Some strangled mix of emotions that leaves her looking as if she’s going to cry, an emotion he never wishes to see on her face again. Gwen hasn’t stopped glaring at Agravaine even once, although both Merlin and Morgause have turned to stare at her instead. There’s surprise on both of their faces as well.

“Gwen—” Morgana steps forward, giving him a clear view of Leon and he feels himself finally breathe easy at the exasperation badly hidden on the knight’s face.

“I don’t want it!” She snaps again, turning her head to glare at the room.

“Guinevere,” Leon says sharply, stepping forward right as she opens her mouth to say something else.

She narrows her eyes at him, crossing her arms and tilting her chin up. “I’m fine, Leon.”

He rolls his eyes, not seeming to care about her anger, and points at the door, raising an eyebrow at her. She stares back, furious and unbending.

“You’ll walk out the door so that we can talk about this in private, or I will pick you up like I did when you were ten and take you out of the room,” he says calmly, ignoring the way the entire room is watching them.

They stare each other down for long enough that Arthur worries he really is going to be witness to Leon swinging her over his shoulder. This thankfully does not happen, as eventually Guinevere flings her hands up and stalks out of the room, door slamming shut behind her.

“She’s fine,” Leon says exasperatedly, rolling his eyes again. “She clearly hasn’t been sleeping enough and needs to take a nap.”

“She’s not a child!” Morgana exclaims, looking offended on Guinevere’s behalf.

“Yes, my lady. I am aware of that, she does however get exceptionally mean when she’s sleep deprived.”

Leon and Morgana stare at each other for a second, Morgana thin lipped and annoyed, Leon stiff shouldered and exasperated, and then Leon walks out the door after Guinevere. Arthur also truly misses the day when Leon respected his opinion above everyone else’s.

“And this is what Camelot has come to,” his Uncle says suddenly, seeming to feel brave now that Leon was out of the room. A truly ridiculous notion considering the amount of magic users in the room. “You see nephew, I am truly only trying to help you maintain control of the city.”

“I can still murder you and flee Camelot,” Morgause says, smiling sweetly, an expression he never again wishes to see on her face.

Merlin snickers and he sighs, nodding slightly to his right when he catches Merlin’s eye. His, frankly awful, lover grimaces in apology before moving to stand next to him, shoulder just barely brushing his own.

“The way I see it Uncle—” he says slowly, finally meeting his Uncle’s eyes, his stomach twisting unpleasantly. “—I have three options.”

His uncle smiles at him and his stomach twists tighter. Does his Uncle really believe him to be so naive as to give him a third chance? Even if he was, Morgana would not stand for it and he wouldn’t blame her. “Option one is you spend the night in the dungeons, and in the morning we oversee your execution,—” Agravaine sways backwards, blanching and opening his mouth as if to protest but Arthur presses on. “—option two, I banish you from Camelot, never to return under penalty of death and option three, I pardon you, once again.” Merlin stiffens next to him and he shakes his head slightly when he catches Morgana’s sharp glance.

“Well of course the choice should be option three!” His Uncle exclaims, tripping over the words in his haste to get them out.

“Yes, I thought you might say that,” he says slowly, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “But you see, here’s the thing about option three. If you remain in Camelot, I do not doubt that at some point in the next week, you will turn up having died from mysterious means,” he glances pointedly around the room at the three magic users all glaring at Agravaine. His uncle pales, clearly catching his meaning. “So, if I were in your shoes, after having betrayed my nephew and King twice within the month, I would take the banishment and say _thank you._ ” The last words come out as more of a snarl, hanging in the room as his Uncle stares at him in horror and he feels Merlin press closer, hand coming up to rest on his shoulder.

The silence draws tight until he wonders if his uncle will be fool enough to attempt to fight his way out of the room. A move that would surely end in his death. He doesn’t doubt that Merlin and Morgana would leave him alive purely for his sake but he knows that Morgause holds no such qualms.

His uncle draws himself up, shoulders tight and bows low. “I will be ready to leave at first light,” he says coldly, moving as if to leave the room and Arthur thinks he would have let him go, too tired to fight this battle anymore.

“I believe you forgot something,” Morgause drawls, moving in front of the door and smiling mockingly. “Do you have nothing else to say to your king?”

“He is not _my_ king,” Agravaine snarls. Merlin’s hand tightens on his shoulder, whether in an effort to comfort or out of his own rage Arthur isn’t sure.

“He is your king until you leave Camelot,” Morgana says lowly, moving to stand next to her sister, murder in her gaze. “I would suggest you also find some words within you for your queen before I demand your execution as is my right.”

Agravaine turns sharply, hands shaking in fists at his sides, “Thank you, your majesty,” he bites out, jaw clenched tight. Arthur waves him off dismissively, wishing only for him to be gone and for it to be over with.

Agravaine’s jaw seems to clench even tighter at the dismissal as he turns back to Morgana. “Thank you, your majesty,” he mutters, the words barely passable with how coated they are in venom.

“That will do, I suppose,” Morgana scoffs, moving aside so that he can leave.

“Morgause will escort you to your rooms and assign guards to see you out of the kingdom,” he says impulsively, meeting her gaze evenly when her eyes snap to him. “If you try to run or hurt any of my people in retaliation I’ll let her do whatever she wishes to you.” It’s the last warning he’ll give. Agravaine nods stiffly, before walking out the door, not once looking back at his sister’s son.

Morgause tilts her head consideringly at him for a second before nodding at him, smiling at Morgana and also leaving.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” Morgana says quietly after the door has closed. “I know how much you wanted to keep what little bit of family you have.”

She does look truly sorry for him which helps to soothe the bitterness threatening to spill out of his mouth.

“I still have the two of you,” he says after a moment, bringing his hand up to squeeze the one Merlin still has on his shoulder. “You two are family enough for me.”

“Awww Arthur, that was nearly sweet of you,” she coos, smiling at him when glares.

“You’ve got Gwen as well,” Merlin says softly. “And Leon, Lance…” he trails off, humming thoughtfully. “Perhaps even Morgause.”

“I thought you didn’t like her,” he says surprised. He’s had to listen to Merlin complain about her nearly every day since she arrived.

“She’s growing on me.” He shrugs not looking at all put out by Arthur’s incredulous glance.

“Is it because she tried to kill my uncle?” He asks, already resigned to the answer.

Merlin grimaces before shrugging again. “It might be…”

“You have me as well!”

There’s a beat of silence as they stare at each other and then turn as one to look at the table where Gwaine is still seated, feet on the table, arms crossed.

“You lot forgot I was here didn’t ya?” He laughs, tipping backwards in the chair before bouncing up out of it. “Interesting show you lot put on, if I’d realized the royals in Camelot were this interesting I might have come to town sooner!”

“No you wouldn’t have,” Merlin says, still staring at Gwaine in bemusement.

“Nah, you’re right mate, I wouldn’t have,” he laughs, smiling brightly at Merlin before turning a strangely serious look towards Arthur.

Arthur fights down the urge to squirm, the serious look out of place on the loud man who had shown up in Camelot all those weeks ago. Shown up and taken to following Lancelot, Merlin, Gwen or even Morgana around. Although, from what Arthur had seen, Lancelot seemed to be his favorite to bother. He had not paid Arthur any mind apart from jokingly calling him princess in front of the knights.

“Tell me something princess,” he says finally, cocky smirk back in place. “You looking for anymore knights for that little club of yours?”

Arthur finally gives in and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Only under the condition that you never call the Knights of Camelot that ever again,” he says glaring at Gwaine, who merely smiles brightly at him before winking at Morgana.

“Notice he didn’t tell me to stop calling him princess,” he mock whispers. “I do believe he likes it!”

Morgana laughs, blowing a kiss at him when he glares at her. “Out, both of you. Morgana I will see you in the morning to see Agravaine off and announce his punishment. Gwaine, I will see you at practice immediately after that.”

  


⚔

  


“Are you okay?” Merlin asks later after they’ve gotten in bed, pressing a gentle hand to Arthur’s cheek and smiling so, so softly at him.

“Am I really so easy to betray?” He asks quietly, feels something in him settle at the fury that lights up Merlin’s eyes, gold sparking in their depths.

“No,” Merlin says, voice unfailingly gently despite the fury still in his eyes. “Your uncle merely did what so many others have and placed Uther’s failings at your feet. I don’t claim to understand it but it has nothing to do with you.” His thumb traces slow, sweeping arcs over Arthur’s cheek as he talks and Arthur—

—he believes him. How can he not? Merlin has always been the least impressed by everything he does and yet somehow always had more faith in him than everyone else combined.

“You’re a prat,” Merlin says after a moment, kissing him slowly and then pulling back before Arthur can do more than sigh into it. “But you are a good king. The people love you, your knights love you. You’ve managed to gain Gwaine’s respect despite how vehemently he claims to hate nobles. I think you may genuinely be winning Morgause over which is not an easy feat.”

“It’s all thanks to you,” he says, smiling at how disgruntled Merlin sounds about Morgause possibly warming up to him when she still seems to despise Merlin himself. “If I am a good king then it is because you’ve shown me how to be one,” he reiterates, pressing a kiss to the inside of Merlin’s wrist.

“I don’t believe that you know,” Merlin says, nose wrinkled as he sits up, crossing his legs and staring down at Arthur.

Arthur sighs but mirrors him, sitting up and crossing his legs. “Don’t believe what, Merlin?

“I’ll take some of the credit sure, but you would have become an amazing king all on your own even without my help,” he says fiercely, leaning forward like he can make the words sink in if he says them forcefully enough.

“Merlin—”

“You would have,” Merlin insists, cutting him off. “You have a good heart, you’ve always had a good heart. You were always going to become a king worth following,” he says earnestly, hands pressed to Arthur’s thighs, eyes almost unbearably intense. “I helped you find that part of yourself faster but it was always there.”

“You’re such an idiot Merlin,” he murmurs, throat curiously choked up as he pushes Merlin over. “Stop pretending to be wise.”

Merlin laughs, grinning up at him, eyes bright with happiness in a way that Arthur, during his darkest moments, fears he nearly lost. “Marry me,” he blurts, the thought barely even a half formed before it bursts out of his mouth.

Merlin freezes, blinking up at him, eyes wide and shocked, something wild passing through his eyes that Arthur can’t identify. “Marry me,” he says again, just to make sure he’d said it correctly the first time. “It, maybe it wasn’t because of you,” he chokes out, chest aching. “But you make it worth it. You make everything worth it. You make me _want_ to be a good king, if for no other than reason to see you smile at me.”

_“Arthur,”_ he breathes, mouth barely done shaping the word before he’s launching himself into Arthur’s lap. “Of course, yes, of course,” he babbles in between wildly pressing kisses all over Arthur’s face.

Arthur laughs, sliding his hand into Merlin’s hair and kissing him until they’re both breathless, pours every ounce of his affection into the kiss and thanks whatever deity is out there for gifting him with someone too bloody stubborn to leave when he tried to run them off.

“Now you have to be king,” he murmurs, pulling back just long enough to smirk.

Merlin scoffs, pushing him over and straddling him. “You say that as if you weren’t going to make me be a blasted royal regardless.”

“But you’ll look so good in a crown,” he says softly, smirking at the flush that spreads across Merlin’s cheeks.

“And I’m sure you’ll have great fun taking it off of me every night, won’t you my king?” Merlin whispers, pressing his lips to Arthur’s heart and smiling at the shiver that runs through his body.

“Every night for the rest of your life,” he promises. Even if everyone else betrays him, at least he can rest easy in the knowledge that Merlin will always be by his side weathering it with him.

_fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's a wrap y'all. There's still honestly a lot of loose ends, questions unanswered etc... but that's the story itself told and done. 
> 
> I know for sure that at some point in the near future I will be writing a one-shot (for real this time) that handles Morgana, Leon and Gwen getting their shit together and I'm toying with the idea of writing one for Gwaine and Lance as well. As well as possibly just missing scenes like, where is Elyan? What's he up to? What exactly was the dinner like when Morgause first got there? Arthur mentioned screaming! Do Morgause and Merlin ever really become friends? I made a series for anyone interested in subscribing for further updates of this universe!
> 
> Lastly, it's been lovely <3 thank you for all the lovely comments that helped me motivate me to finish this! <3

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this then let me highly recommend my friend Mona's fic set during The Death Song of Uther Pendragon! I'm still over here sobbing about it so please, please go read it <3  
> [fate rests heavily on our shoulders (but I'd carry it all for you)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25225558)


End file.
